


NaNoWriMo 2011

by Ellie226



Series: Mark/El [20]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, Discipline, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie226/pseuds/Ellie226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is part of the larger Mark/El universe. It takes place after the stories posted thus far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

“Wake up Princess,” I felt Daddy’s hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle shake. “Nap time’s over Baby,” he told me.

I moaned and rolled onto my tummy, shoving my head under the pillow, “More sleep,” I said.

“No. I need you to wake up now so you can sleep later on tonight. Come on Baby; it’s time to get up.”

“Nooooooo,” I whined, not moving.

Daddy’s hand was gently stroking my back, “I guess you don’t want to come and play with me then,” he said.

“Nope,” I grumbled. I wasn’t falling for that. I liked exactly where I was thank you very much, and I did not want to climb out from under the warm covers.

“Not even to see what I did while you were napping,” he continued.

I pushed the pillow off my head and turned so I could inhale. “Don’t smell cookies. Don’t care,” I said.

“Oh, I think you’ll like it better than cookies.” 

Christ. He really wasn’t going to quit. Rolling onto my back so that I could look at him, I said, “Then you don’t know me at all.”

“Come on. Get up. I promise you’ll like it,” he grabbed both of my hands and pulled, while I tried to make my body as limp and heavy as possible. “You’re stubborn today.”

“I’m stubborn every day. It’s one of the best things about me,” I told him, as he finally picked me up and rested me on his hip. I leaned my head against his shoulder, yawning again. “This had better be the best surprise ever,” I warned, sticking my thumb back into my mouth.

He carried me over to the attic stairs, then gestured for me to walk up. When we got to the third level, he directed me over to the corner. There was some giant thing draped in a sheet.

“Go on,” he said. He looked much more excited about this than I was feeling. Although, in my defense, I do not do well immediately out of bed. 

Sighing, I pulled the sheet off of the lump, and then I was excited. I jumped up and down a few times clapping, then threw myself at him.

“A dollhouse! A dollhouse! You got me a dollhouse!” I had always wanted one, but my parents couldn’t afford it when I was little, and it was kind of a weird gift to ask for once you were a teenager; so I didn’t. 

“I did,” he said, smiling at me. “Come on, let’s look at it,” he sat down, pulling me onto his lap so that I could peer inside.

I couldn’t stop wiggling as I began going through all of the furniture and dolls, and he finally let me slip off of his lap so I could kneel by myself and look more closely. I couldn’t figure out when he had time to do this; it was pretty intense. As I was running my fingers over the little rug in the dining room, I stopped, staring at the chandelier. 

I reached for it, and Daddy grabbed my hand. I looked at him, my mouth opening and closing like a fish, as he knelt next to me and began talking, “I love you so much, and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. Will you marry me?” As he asked, he reached into the dollhouse and pulled the engagement ring off of the dining room light fixture, and held it out.

I didn’t know what to say; I finally just threw myself at him, hugging him tightly. I could feel myself tearing up, and I didn’t want to cry when we were supposed to be happy.

“Is that a yes?” he teased me.

I nodded, not letting go as I pushed and pulled at him until he sat with his legs crossed and I could climb back into his lap. Facing him, with my legs on either side of his torso, I finally let go enough to pull back and make eye contact.

He was smiling at me, “Do you want your ring then?” he asked

I smiled at that, holding my hand out so he could slide it on. Then, I hugged him again, resting my head against his shoulder and holding my left hand behind him so I could look at the ring. 

He began rocking me automatically, “Do you like it?”

I finally found my voice. That was an easy enough question. “I love it,” I told him. “I adore it. It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” He had done a pretty good job picking it out. It was simple, understated.

“Who helped you pick it out?” I asked him, wondering what friend he had enlisted.

“What makes you think I couldn’t pick out the perfect ring myself?” he asked.

“I’m not saying you couldn’t. I’m saying that this has my sister’s fingerprints all over it. So you must have at least talked to her.”

“I picked out like 12, and then I had her tell me which three she thought you would like best. I know how much you like a good story; I figured that our engagement story would be best if we didn’t have to return it for something you liked better.”

I hugged him again, then asked, “Do I still get to keep the dollhouse, or was that part of the elaborate set-up? Because I love the ring, but I really like the dollhouse too.”

He laughed at that. “Yes. They’re both yours. I figured the ring was the part you could tell other people, and this would be just for us. Do you want to play with it right now?”

I did. Like, I really really did. I’d wanted a dollhouse for 22 years. However, we were going to have to call people about the engagement too.

Sighing, I disentangled myself from Daddy. “We need to call people,” I told him, my voice mournful.

He mirrored my expression, clearly trying not to laugh. “We do, but I think if you wanted to play with your new toy for a little while, that would be okay.”

I gently reached out a hand to touch the dollhouse, and then forced myself to turn away. “I’ll play with it later. Let’s call everyone first.”

I climbed off of his lap so that he could stand up, and then we started down the stairs. “Who already knows?” I asked him.

“Just your sister; I needed her help. She didn’t know it was going to be today though.”

“Okay. So, we need to call your parents, my parents,” I was off, focusing on getting through the next couple of hours as Mark and Grown Up El.

Then, we could go back to being Daddy and Princess by dinnertime.


	2. Planning

“There are too many choices,” I groaned, flopping back to lay on the bed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just pick something. Just one thing, and we’ll go from there,” Daddy brushed hair off of my face. “I don’t want this to be stressful; I want this to be a good thing.”

I knew that tone he was using. It was a combination of the “keeping El calm” tone and the “I’ll put my foot down if I have to” tone. I closed my eyes for a minute, thinking.

“Flowers,” I finally said decisively. “They’re not a huge deal because they’re just flowers. Any preferences?” I asked.

He smiled and pulled me over so that I was half draped across him, “What about those flowers I gave you on our second date? The big, round, bright ones?”

“Gerbera daisies,” I supplied.

“Those. You liked those, right?”

I nodded, “They come in a lot of colors though; we have to decide on colors too.” I started feeling stressed out again.

“Hey,” Daddy’s voice broke through, “We’re just thinking about type right now. Do you want to go with the daisies, or do you like something else?”

“I like the daisies,” I admitted, trying to focus on just that for a minute. Dr. Finnegan and I had been working on that, looking only at the immediate problem rather than trying to anticipate sixteen steps ahead. “They’re pretty, and I think you can get them year-round.”

“Okay, there’s one decision. Are you keeping a list?”

I nodded and sat up so I could pull my Google account up and type into a new document. “Flowers, gerbera daisies. What colors do you think?”

“Aren’t there like hidden meanings or something?” he asked me.

“Uh huh. Lemme Google.” I typed into the search engine and then smiled as I read out loud, “Innocence, purity, beauty, and cheerfulness are the meanings of the gerbera daisy, the world’s fifth most popular flower.”

“I like that. Anything on the colors of the flower?” 

I scanned through the webpage trying to find something. “Nothing specific to these flowers, but yellow is hopelessly in love; pink is caring or friendship; red is a declaration of passionate love, and white means purity. Orange means warmth, tenderness, and friendship. We could do just a mixture?” I suggested.

“I like a mixture. See? One problem solved.”

“More than one actually,” I said thoughtfully, as I stared at images of gerbera daisy arrangements. “Everything we decide has to be pulled together into an overall mood. These are cheerful and casual, so we probably don’t want to go with like a huge, formal, elegant affair.”

“So a daytime wedding?”

I nodded, still staring at the pictures. “Can we get married outside?” I asked him.

He smiled at me, “We can have a wedding on the moon if it makes you happy. I care about the marriage. Although,” he leered at me a little, walking his fingers up my bare thigh, “The honeymoon is also important.”

I pushed at him, “Focus. And unless you have an in with NASA, I’m pretty sure we cannot get married on the moon.”

“Okay. I’m back. Are we getting married around here?”

I sucked my lower lip in, and then brightened. “The carousel!” I told him.

“I think that will make the guests dizzy.”

“No, I heard you can rent the pavilion nearby. We could take pictures on the carousel though.” I began hurriedly clicking through web pages, finally pulling it up. I looked at it for a long moment, and then looked at him, “It’s expensive.”

“If that’s where you want to get married, we can do that.”

“No, but it’s like really expensive. If we’re going to spend that kind of money, we should go all out. Where did you want to go for the honeymoon?”

“I was thinking the Happiest Place on Earth.”

“Disney World? Seriously?” I bounced a little at that. I loved Disney World, but Daddy and I had never been there together.

“I figured that nobody would think anything of you acting like a kid.”

“How long have you been planning this for?” I asked, splitting my attention between him and my laptop so that I could pull up the Disney website.

“A while. I can’t reveal all of my secrets. What are you doing?”

“Well,” I told him, finally getting to the screen I wanted, “If we’re going to have our honeymoon there, what if we just do the wedding as well? That way,” I turned to smile at him, “All of those people you invite that you really don’t want to come? They aren’t going to bother.”

He snorted at that, “I don’t know if I should be impressed by your brilliance or terrified by your ability to manipulate those around you.”

“Can’t it be both?” I tapped a few keys, “I like this one.” I turned the screen, “We’d be on the water, so it couldn’t get too hot with the breeze. Plus, this venue accepts up to 80 people. We wouldn’t be able to invite everyone, but then you wouldn’t have to be worried about my tendency toward being the puppet master.” I made a gesture like I was playing with marionettes.

“Sea Breeze Point? Where would we do the reception?” Daddy propped himself up on an elbow. 

“We have options, but I think we would go with either the Attic or the Dance Hall since they’re nearby. I like the Attic though. I got drunk with my sister there once.”

“Always something to look for in a venue,” Daddy said dryly. “How many people there?”

“Uhhh, 50. And my natural desire to be a crazy hermit lady is very happy with that. I think we could pare it down to 50.”

“Your parents, my parents, my brother and sister, your brother and sister...And your brother-in-law and nephew and my sister-in-law. We’re already up at 11, plus us is 13.”

“My grandmother won’t come. I’d want Grace to be my Maid of Honor. So that means John too. Which puts us at 15. It would be tight, but I bet we could keep it under 50.”

“If that’s where you want, we’ll figure something out.”

“Or...” I trailed off, focused on the laptop.

“Or...” he prompted.

“Epcot. We could have the reception there apparently. Most of the countries, but it looks like we could take the boat right to England.”

I clicked through a couple of pages, “No, that’s only like 25 people. I don’t think we can keep it at 25.”

“Probably not. Where else?”

“We’d have to have a buffet at the Attic. I don’t really want buffet; I’d rather do plated.”

“Which leaves us with what?”

“This one,” I turned the laptop again, “Marvin Gardens. It can be anywhere between 30 and 80 people.”

“Pretty,” Daddy commented, “You like that one?”

I nodded decisively, “Unless we want to go with the other outdoor venue, the Croquet Garden. We could do the ceremony and the reception there.”

“I like the water better.”

“I think I do too. And I like that they’re both indoor/outdoor so we don’t have to worry about the weather.”

“Alright then, we’ve made some decisions. Now, it’s time to put the laptop away so we can go to sleep.”

“Dadddddy,” I whined as he tugged it away from me. “I’m not tired yet.”

“Uh huh. It’s bedtime. Scooch down Princess,” he moved sheets and pillows around and then moved to turn off the light. “Good night.”

I wrinkled my nose in distaste, but then I curled against him and closed my eyes. That lasted for about 10 minutes, and then I couldn’t hold still anymore.

“Daddy?” I whispered.

“Yes?” that did not sound like the voice he used when he was glad we were talking. That sounded like the voice he used when he wanted me to be quiet.

“I really like the ring,” as I told him, I played with it a little bit.

“That’s good. Now go to sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy though.”

“Then close your eyes and hold still. That’s almost as good as actually sleeping.”

“But I’m too excited.”

Daddy tugged me to him tightly and ran a hand down my side to rest on my hip, “Do you think a spanking would help you calm down?”

“No! But Daddy, it’s Saturday. We could stay up late.”

“We already did. Now go to sleep.”

I sighed, frustrated. I wanted to get up and finish planning our wedding.

“Can we get married soon?” I asked.

“El, I’m not talking about the wedding anymore right now. The only conversation I’m going to have with you tonight, is why it is you’re getting a spanking. So unless you want to have that discussion, I’d suggest you go to sleep.”

I made a face at that, and then I tried to calm down.

“Can I just tell you one more thing?” I said timidly.

Daddy sighed at that, “One more thing. And then, you are going to go to sleep and stop being such a chatterbox.”

“Okay,” I thought for a minute.

“Eleanor, did you actually have something to say or were you just wanting to talk some more?”

“If I pick the second option, am I getting a spanking?”

“You’re going to get a spanking if you don’t go to sleep right now.”

“Fine,” I told him, resolving to be quiet and sleep. We had all day tomorrow to talk about the wedding.


	3. Saving a Date

“When?”

“When what Baby?” Daddy asked, flipping pancakes and pouring juice while I sat on the counter flipping through a magazine.

“When did you want to get married?”

Daddy put down the spatula and turned to me, picking me up and giving me a spin before he kissed me. “Now. Or, as soon as possible.”

I giggled, kissing him back, “It takes months to reserve a venue Daddy.”

“Really?” he looked crestfallen.

I nodded, then I tilted my head forward to rest my forehead against his. “If we did something simple...I guess we could get married sooner. But it would have to be like really simple Daddy. Like Justice of the Peace Simple Daddy.” 

I smiled at him; he was right, we wanted to be married. The wedding was just a party. A really awesome party where everyone had to treat me like a princess, but it was still just a party.

“You want the big wedding, don’t you Baby?”

“I want to be married,” I said staunchly.

“That’s good. We’re engaged, and the goal was for us to be married. But, if you had to pick between a big wedding or City Hall?”

I looked to the side, making a face, “I want to be married.”

“Not what I asked Baby.”

I sighed, making eye contact, “I want to be married, but if I had a choice...I want the big wedding.” I smiled, “It’s kind of the only time where everyone has to be nice to you. No matter what. I get to be treated like a Princess Daddy. By everybody. It’s my dream.”

Daddy laughed at me, rubbing his nose against mine. Then he put me back on the counter and leaned in to kiss me. We stayed like that until we smelled burning.

“Shit! The pancakes!” Daddy rushed to the stove and pulled the pan off of the burner. Smiling at me ruefully, he asked, “So, how do you feel about toast?”

I giggled and hopped off of the counter to grab a loaf of bread.

As he slipped some bread into the toaster, he bumped his hip against me. “I want to be married to you now, but I’m willing to wait for the big wedding if that’s what you want. I want you to be happy. You only get married once, right?”

I smiled at him, tilting my head, “Well, this year at least.”

He snorted at that. “Get the jam,” he said, swatting at me with a dish towel.

After breakfast, I wanted to get back to planning the wedding. Daddy vetoed that plan, “You’re sure about Disney World?”

“Uh huh. Definitely. It’ll be great; we can have the wedding and then the honeymoon. Way less stress that way. Plus, think about how much Jake is going to love it,” I smiled at him. “They have a spa on grounds; I can go and get a massage. Or two. And pedicures. I’m going to be soooooo pretty. And we don’t have to worry about anyone drinking and driving because everything happens there, and they have transportation.”

“You’re always pretty,” he smiled at me. “Are you’re sure about the place? Sea Breeze Point? Because if you’re not absolutely positive, we can think about it some more. I want this to be the wedding that you want.”

“I like it Daddy. It’s going to be comfortable and relaxed. Not too fussy,” I wrinkled my nose.

“Okay. What about the restaurant? Are you sure you want Marvin Gardens, or do you want to look at the list again?”

“It’s got the stuff we want. I wish that we could get plated meals in Epcot, but we can’t. And I don’t want to have a buffet.”

“And the irrational hatred comes from...”

“Don’t like it. I want plated.”

“Okay. Then we need to call and see about booking a date. Did you have anything in mind?”

“I don’t care so much. I’d like it to be soon, but we probably need at least 3 months so I don’t mess up my court schedule, and 6 months would be better so I can get a dress without paying crazy last minute fees.”

“So the earliest we can do this would be October?”

I nodded, “That would be good anyway. October is nice in Florida; it’s like 70 degrees most days.”

“So, if we can get October, then we go with October. Any time you don’t want to do it?”

I shook my head no, “Not really. Things get hairy in December, but if that’s when they can get us in, it would probably be really pretty. They decorate for Christmas. Plus, then I get to make Christmas about me and nobody can complain.” I rubbed my hands together like a super villain. 

Daddy shook his head, laughing a little. Then he continued, “Then we’re going to call and see what we need to do. If we can book a date today, then that’s what we’ll do. And then we’re done for the day Princess; no more wedding planning. I’m capping you at 30 minutes a day.”

“That’s not enough time Daddy. Finding a dress is an all-day thing.”

“Fine, then you get 4 hours a week, with the exception of looking for a dress.”

I held up 3 fingers, “I give my solemnest Girl Scout promise that I will be reasonable on the days I have to look for a dress.”

“Didn’t you get kicked out of the Girl Scouts?” he asked me, quirking an eyebrow.

“The other Brownies wanted to know what cannibalism meant.”

“Because...” he prodded.

“Because I might have mentioned it when someone brought brownies to eat. The joke was right there. I had to take it. Still, you can trust me; I remember our oath and everything.”

“I do trust you. And, in case you forget, there will be consequences if you start obsessing about this. You know what you’re supposed to do when that happens; I want you to use those tricks you and Dr. Finnegan came up with.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I simply nodded. Trust was a big deal, and I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t let me do stuff.

Daddy called Disney and talked briefly. Placing the phone against his shoulder, he turned to me. “They have a cancellation for the last weekend in October. Otherwise, we have to wait until January.”

“October,” I said quickly. “The parks aren’t too busy, and the weather’s good.”

“It’s October 31 Baby. It means we’d get married on Halloween,” he pointed out.

“I’m good with that. We don’t have any small children who need to Trick or Treat yet. Jake isn’t big enough to really care. Especially not when compared to the majesty.”

“It is a lot of majesty,” Daddy said, clearly humoring me. 

“Tell them yes.”

Quirked eyebrow. Stupid talkative eyebrows.

“Please tell them yes; October would be lovely,” I smiled at him ingratiatingly. 

Daddy spoke into the phone again, “Yes, we would love the October slot. Thank you. And you mentioned a wedding planner? Great. She’ll call us this week?” He started rattling off information, including his credit card number.

Hanging up, he looked at me, “All done; we’re booked. We should probably make a guest list today and call people since we’re only looking at six months.”

“What happened to no more wedding planning for today?” I said in a sing-song voice.

He gave me a Look, “We need to do this one last thing today. Then, we’re done. And I’m only doing this because we have to let people know now. Just pull up the lists so we can start.”

“Immediate family,” I narrated as I typed. “Grace and John. Who do you want for your best man?”

“Lucas I guess. So he’ll bring Lori, and that puts us at 16.”

We quickly put together a list of people; I was right. Once we wrote the list and then crossed off all of the people we didn’t really want there (because everyone has an Aunt Mildred who is embarrassing and you don’t really like), we cut it down to 80 people.

“So now we have to call everyone?” he asked me.

I smiled at that. It was nice to know more than he did about something that was a basic life skill. I might not know about cars, or how to fix a leaky faucet, but I had wedding planning as well as basic social psychology down.

“No. We just call some of them.”

“Who?”

“It’s like an International Gossip Network, comprised almost entirely of mothers. We both call our mothers, and we let them know we’re emailing them a list. They’re going to try convince us to invite people not on the list. Do Not Crack,” I warned him. “We’ll call Luke and Grace, and then we call our siblings and the handful of friends we’re inviting. Our mothers will pretty much take care of everyone in the family. Which leaves us with only,” I stopped for a minute, counting the list, “13 calls between the two of us.”

Daddy looked relieved, and we both grabbed our cell phones and started. As I had anticipated, the first phone call was the hardest, with both moms trying to negotiate on the list. 

“Hold strong,” I mouthed to him.

The other calls were much easier, and it took a little less then an hour. 

“And we’re done!” Daddy said, putting down his phone. “Dollhouse?” he asked me, smiling.

“Wait,” I said.

“Baby, I told you. That was it for today. I don’t want you stressing out.”

“I know, but I just want to make sure about the honeymoon first. We have to figure out where we want to stay and when.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have to reserve hotel rooms. We can wait until tomorrow, or you can do it online right now. But it’s kind of important that we have a bed because I’m pretty sure that we’ll get banned from Disney for life if they catch us having sex on the beach. Plus, sand plus friction plus delicate skin? Not of the good Daddy.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, “Fair point. Where do you want to stay?”

“Makes the most sense to stay at The Boardwalk since that’s where the wedding is. I don’t want to have to move midway through,” I wrinkled my nose.

“Alright. How long before and after do you think?”

“I can take like three weeks off from work, but I want at least one buffer day before and after.”

“How much time do you want before and after the wedding?”

We managed to agree that we would get to Disney World three days before the wedding, and then we would stay for 10 days afterward. 

“Now, dollhouse?”

“Okay, I really want to play with the dollhouse, but first...you’ll make the reservations tomorrow?”

“Yes. Trust me. Come on. Wedding planning is done for the day.”

Daddy led me upstairs. I didn’t want to stop, but the dollhouse distracted me pretty quickly. Daddy had to pry me away to eat lunch. Afterward, I wanted to go back up, but he made me go out with him to the park.

Daddy kept me distracted the rest of the day, and then I had to go to work on Monday. Work. Where I had the Internet. Which is pretty much exactly where the trouble started.


	4. Overplanning

Daddy controlled my computer access (and everything else) at home, but work was my place. I had Internet access that I could do with as I pleased.

And, as we moved closer and closer to the wedding date, I started spending more time on my computer working on the wedding.

Daddy had no idea. He thought that this was easy; you just make plans and stick with them. He didn’t get the massive amount of organization involved.

It wasn’t just planning the wedding. Or even just planning the wedding and the honeymoon. It was setting up to have someone come by to bring in the mail and take care of Barnaby. It was buying the dress that I was going to spend the rest of my life looking at pictures of myself in. It was picking out wedding rings and presents for each other and making sure to make reservations at restaurants because you can’t just walk into character meals or Victoria and Albert’s. It was freaking stressful. And I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. 

I made lists. And then lists of lists. And then I had to come home and pretend that I wasn’t freaking out while still getting Daddy to consider seriously everything that needed to be done. 

I kept telling myself things would get better as we got closer to the wedding date. It made sense; we would have more done then. 

I already had my dress (short, strapless, and very vintage looking). I had found the perfect veil (the Russian tulle birdcage veil that I’d been obsessed with since my sister’s wedding). I had found amazing red silk shoes that were somehow both comfortable and looked appropriately cute and vintage with the dress while still giving an adorable pop of color. I had something old (a silver compact that had been in my family for ages), something new (my veil and my dress), something borrowed (a lace handkerchief from my sister), and something blue (blue lace panties with a matching bra that I knew Mark would love).

We had spent time talking with Laura, our wedding planner, and she had been tremendously helpful. We had flowers and a seating plan all set. We had narrowed our cake selection down to three, and Daddy kept telling me that we would make a decision about the cake and the rest of the menus later. He didn’t understand at all. And the more I fixed, the more stressed out I got. 

It wasn’t enough that the wedding had been planned. And at times, when I wasn’t being crazy, I knew the wedding was pretty much done. The only things not complete were that I hadn’t found the perfect shade of lipstick to match the nail polish I’d picked out, and the alterations to my wedding dress weren’t done. Even the menu and the cake were simply a matter of making a choice between the things we already knew we liked.

But most of the time, I was being crazy. I needed to find lingerie for the honeymoon. I needed to make sure that all of my work was completely caught up so that nothing could go wrong while I was gone. I needed to make sure our home was immaculate and perfectly decorated so we weren’t stressed when we got back. And, I had to write thank you notes to people for gifts we had received, attend my wedding shower, and apparently, have a bachelorette party. 

I could feel myself getting crazier and crazier, and I wanted to stop. I even talked with Dr. Finnegan about it. She reminded me of all of our tricks, and she encouraged me to tell Daddy.

“You know that if you tell him you’re stressed, he’ll help you.”

“I can’t. I’m not supposed to be freaking out and obsessing. If he knows I am, he’s going to spank me.”

“El, do you genuinely think that you’re going to be able to keep up this facade for another three months? Really? Because I have to tell you, your Daddy seems to have a pretty good idea of when you’re having trouble.”

“I can handle it. I just needed to talk about it with you so that I can remind myself that everything is fine.”

Dr. Finnegan gave me a look of skepticism; she clearly did not agree that everything was going to be fine. Finally, she opened her mouth, “El, I want you to think very carefully about this. What normally happens when you get stressed out?”

“I engage in unhealthy coping mechanisms,” I recited. I wanted to roll my eyes.

“What kind of coping mechanisms do you normally opt for?”

“I don’t hurt myself anymore,” I said, my left hand travelling to my hip and rubbing. Daddy’s “help” with the spoon had eventually gotten through.

“Okay, that’s good. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. What are some other things that we’re still working on?”

“I don’t get enough sleep. I get weird about food.”

“That’s right. And the other thing that Daddy mentioned is that he notices that you start doing a lot of rule testing. And then you get spanked anyway because you do stuff you know is going to get you into trouble. Don’t you think it might be easier to just tell Daddy now? He might not even spank you for it because you’re admitting it without being backed into a corner.”

“But maybe he won’t spank me because I get it under control without his help,” I argued.

“Do you really think that’s going to happen?” she asked me.

“It could,” I insisted.

“You’re right. It could. Now, I want you to really think: does hiding stuff from Daddy normally end well for you?”

I shook my head no, pouting a bit. “But I don’t want to tell him,” I said.

“I understand that. And I’m not going to make you. We’re just talking about why it would be a good idea to simply tell him now rather than waiting until he finds out.”

“Don’t want to,” I said, focusing my eyes on the table top and picking another crayon. “I don’t want a spanking.”

“I understand that too. Getting spanked is no fun. My concern is that Daddy is normally a pretty big help when it comes to stuff like this. It’s important that you take advantage of that rather than letting yourself get worked up. Ultimately, you’re going to end up getting spanked if you do that anyway.”

“I don’t agree, and I’m not telling him,” I said shortly, picking up another crayon and considering it intently.

“Okay. I can’t force you. This isn’t something dangerous, so I can’t tell him unless you let me.”

“Nope. I can do it myself.”

“Alright then. We’re almost out of time now El. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I began picking up the crayons and putting them away.

“Okay,” she helped me put things back in their places, and then walked me out to Daddy.

“I’ll see you next week,” she told me as I picked out my stickers.

I nodded, and then I took Daddy’s proffered hand.


	5. Pushing

“What’d you talk about Baby?”

I shrugged, “Just stuff.”

“Is it a secret?”

“I don’t need to tell you everything,” I said irritably, pulling my hand away from him.

Daddy’s hand reached out to grab me. He pulled me back against him and then swatted me before gripping my hand. “You don’t; the stuff you do in therapy is private. I trust you and Dr. Finnegan to tell me if there’s a problem. However,” he gave me a Look, “I’m not putting up with the sass now or ever El, so I’d get rid of it if I was you.”

I huffed at that.

“Not kidding Eleanor. Do you need a spanking to adjust your attitude? Because we can do that.”

I sighed. “No. Sorry.”

“Thank you Baby. Now, are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that. We’re going to eat dinner. What would you like?”

“I’m not hungry though.”

“One.”

Shit, he went from zero to planning on spanking pretty quickly tonight.

“I don’t care Daddy.”

“Two.”

“But I don’t care,” I stomped my foot. I quickly looked around the hallway. Luckily, nobody else was around because Daddy responded like usual, smacking my bottom.

“And we’re at three now Eleanor. I’m not sure what’s bothering you Baby, but you’d be better off talking with me about it. Because now, when we get home, I’m going to give you a bedtime spanking. Now, what would you like to eat for dinner?”

I wanted to throw myself on the ground and kick and yell at him. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to answer. I had told him I didn’t care; he needed to respect that.

“Eleanor Rose!” Daddy said, his tone shocked. And it made sense. It had become rare for me to dig in my heels like this, especially once I knew that I was getting a bedtime spanking. “Keep going Baby Girl. I can always add on more spankings.”

“Grilled cheese,” I said begrudgingly.

“Was that really so hard El? I don’t know why you have to do that to yourself.”

I didn’t answer, simply walking with him back to the car. We drove the short distance to get dinner; I ate my sandwich silently, and then we drove home.

“Baby, I wish you’d tell me what’s bugging you,” he told me. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said.

“I can’t make you tell me Princess, but I know there’s something. So you can opt out of talking about it with me if that’s what you want, but I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap if you lie to me again.”

I didn’t say anything, staring stubbornly out the windshield. My jaw was clenched hard; he was so bossy.

“I think it’s bedtime then.”

“Not fair! I’m not sleepy yet,” I protested.

“You need a bath, and then it’s time for your spanking and bed. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I’m not going to put up with your attitude.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stayed quiet the rest of the way home. Once we got there, I walked into the living room and flopped onto the couch, grabbing the remote.

“No TV tonight Sweetheart. It’s time for your bath,” Daddy turned the television off.

I lifted the remote and turned it back on. “Not tired yet,” I told him, avoiding eye contact.

Daddy walked over to me and reached for the remote. When I tried to move it away from him, he grabbed my arm and twisted it out of my hand. Then, using the arm he had a hold of, he pulled me up and applied the back of the remote to my bottom half a dozen times. He hadn’t tried that particular trick before, and the flat back of the remote control produced a pretty impressive sting.

“Your bad behavior is what determines these punishments Eleanor Rose. And I don’t know what the problem is tonight, but all you’re doing is earning yourself more spankings.”

I slithered from Daddy’s grasp and threw myself on the floor, “I don’t want to go to bed. You’re mean and I don’t like you,” I wailed, kicking my feet and pounding my fists on the floor. Even as I did it, I was surprised. I normally didn’t throw temper tantrums, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

“I hate you. You’re mean. You’re a mean Daddy, and I don’t like you at all,” I kept kicking as I said this, not looking at Daddy. I knew I was acting like a baby, but I just felt so frustrated and mad.

I didn’t manage to get much more out before Daddy grabbed my arm again and forced me back to my feet. “I don’t like the way you’re acting Eleanor Rose. You need to stop right now, or you’re going to be very unhappy with the consequences.”

“You’re mean!” I spat out.

“That is it young lady.” Daddy manhandled me to the corner, snagging the naughty stool on his way. He forced me to sit down on it. 

“You’re going to sit here until you’re ready to apologize for that little show of temper,” he told me, walking away.

“No!” I shouted, sliding off of the stool and trying to storm out of the room, “You are NOT the boss of me.”

Daddy caught me before I made it more than five feet. As he led me back to the stool, he smacked my bottom several times. “That was NOT a request Eleanor. You’ll sit here like I told you. And, so you’re aware, I am the boss of you. That’s what we decided,” After settling me back onto the stool, he turned to go back to the couch. I was off the stool again, headed for the bathroom. It was the only room in the house with a lock on the door.

I got further this time, mostly because I was practically running. Still, I didn’t make it all the way to the bathroom, and Daddy was pretty upset. “Shoes off,” he ordered me.

“No!” I said, wiggling fiercely in an attempt to get away from him.

He took me to the couch and sat down, pulling me into his lap. Holding me with one hand, he pried my espadrilles off of my feet. Then, he stood me between his legs so he could unzip my skirt and slide it down my hips. Left with just my panties, he managed to get them off my bottom, and then he held me on his lap while he pulled them the rest of the way off. I was really fighting now, but I couldn’t get away.

“You’re going to march yourself over to that stool and sit down until I tell you otherwise. Now!” With a very sharp smack to my now uncovered and vulnerable bottom, he pointed to the corner, waiting.

I didn’t want to, but I was starting to have that feeling that I’d pushed too far and was about to be really sorry about it. I angrily went to the corner and pulled myself up onto the stool. Sitting on it and staring at the wall, I tugged at my shirt. I wanted it to cover my bottom. It was unusual for me to just be hanging out anywhere in the house except the bedroom and the bathroom with no clothes on, and I felt Daddy’s eyes watching me pretty keenly.

I tried to pull the hem of the shirt down enough that I could sit on it. Naked on the stool was not just embarrassing, it was also pretty physically uncomfortable. That stool was cold. 

I should probably have just sat still and appreciated the feeling of anything being cool against my bottom, but I kept wiggling, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Sit still,” Daddy told me, his voice sharp.

I sniffled a little as I forced myself to stop moving. “Daddy?” I said, my voice quivering. 

“Unless you’re about to apologize, I don’t want to hear anything from that corner.”

He sounded really mad. He normally didn’t get mad. I twisted my engagement ring around on my finger, and then I decided to continue. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Come here please.” Daddy’s voice already sounded softer, less frustrated, as he called me over. 

Hopping off the stool, I walked to Daddy, awkwardly hunched. Somehow, I felt even more naked wearing just the shirt than I think I would have felt if I had been entirely nude. I kept pulling at the hem, trying to cover myself.

Daddy pulled me back between his thighs, looking only at my face. I appreciated that small bit of privacy even though I really didn’t want to make eye contact. “What are you sorry about?” he prompted.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” I whispered.

“It’s okay to get mad. I didn’t like the behavior; that’s what I want to hear an apology for.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout my bad behavior,” I looked down, thoroughly ashamed of myself. I had never told Daddy I hated him before. “I didn’t mean it.”

Daddy shook his head at me, “I cannot believe that temper tantrum Eleanor Rose. That was very naughty.”

My chin wobbled at that, and I sniffled again. I was pretty sure I was about to get a spanking, and I really deserved it. I was also reasonably certain that Daddy wasn’t going to hold back just because I’d already earned a bedtime spanking for later that evening.


	6. Punishing

Daddy did not disappoint. He pulled me over his lap and began spanking me. He was enthusiastic from the very start, and I was crying almost immediately. 

I had learned that there was no point to stoicism when Daddy spanked. His spankings always hurt, and it’s not like crying made it stop any sooner or later. He kept going until he reached some arbitrary point that I had no real understanding of, and then he would stop.

Kicking and whimpering, I kept apologizing and begging him to stop, swearing that I had learned my lesson and would never ever ever throw another temper tantrum. But Daddy spanked and spanked, his hand hard and the tempo steady. He lectured as he spanked me, talking about how I needed to learn to do what I was told and to stop being naughty when I didn’t want to talk about feeling bad.

I cried a lot from the start, but it got worse as Daddy lifted his right leg, exposing the under curve of my bottom and the tops of my thighs. I wailed at that, the sharp sting of the spanking hurting so much more on the sensitive skin. 

Daddy didn’t stop spanking until I was incoherently begging and promising. Finally, when I thought I wouldn’t be able to take one more smack without my backside bursting into flames, it ended.

I sobbed for a while after it was done. Spankings hurt even after they were over. Daddy rubbed my back, waiting until I was calm before helping me to my feet. Pulling me onto his lap, he grabbed a tissue so I could blow my nose, and then he used another to wipe the tears off of my face.

“Are you ready to tell me what that was all about Baby?” he asked. His voice was gentle now that the punishment was over.

Biting my lip, I shook my head no. Daddy had told me in no uncertain terms what would happen if I let myself get stressed out, and I didn’t want another spanking.

Daddy sighed, “Okay then. It’s time for a bath, and then it’s bedtime. And we’re not reading tonight Baby. Because the only reason I can think of for you to be so stubborn and naughty is that you’re not getting enough sleep, and we can fix that.”

I wanted to protest. I already got sent to bed really early; I didn’t want to be forced to sleep even more. As I opened my mouth, I shifted slightly, and then I whimpered as I managed to put pressure on an especially sore spot. 

“Okay Daddy,” I whispered. Now was not the time to test limits.

I was quiet and docile during my bath and as Daddy got me ready for bed. I sat still so he could brush and braid my hair, and then I laid on the bed while he rubbed lotion into my skin. I didn’t even protest when he turned me back over his knee for the promised bedtime spanking.

I think it was more of a way for him to prove a point than anything. It hurt plenty on the freshly spanked skin, but I could tell that he was holding back significantly. Plus, he only gave me a dozen smacks before helping me into bed. I still cried though. It hurt to simply pull pajamas on over my scorched backside; taking more swats hurt a lot.

Daddy tucked me into bed. I sucked my thumb and hugged Stella as I watched him move around the room pulling on his pajama pants and preparing himself to go to sleep. “I’m going to go check the locks El. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Can I have...” I trailed off, not wanting to ask for it. I was half afraid that naughty little girls who didn’t get bedtime stories didn’t get drinks either.

“I’m going to get you a bottle of milk Princess. You wait up here with Stella, and I’ll be back shortly.”

I settled against my pillow, watching the door. I talked quietly with Stella while I waited, not bothering to remove my thumb from my mouth.

“Sometimes it’s just better to not tell,” I explained to her.

“No, I’m positive. Dr. Finnegan’s wrong. I can handle it myself.”

“I don’t care what you think Stella; it’s my decision. I don’t understand why everyone thinks that I can’t take care of myself; I did it for a long time before Daddy. I’m good at it.”

Stella disagreed. In a more rational state, I probably would have realized that I was wrong. I had taken care of myself, but Daddy and Stella were kind of right that I wasn’t exactly good at it.

For a stuffed animal, she had a lot of opinions about how I should be running my life. And, as often happened when I talked with her in lieu of telling Daddy something, her advice took on a distinctly Daddy like tone.

When Daddy came back to the bedroom, I clammed up, not wanting him to hear the conversation. He climbed into the bed and then spooned himself around me so he could hold my bottle as I drank. When I tried to control it, he tapped my hands, “No Baby. Let Daddy do it tonight.”

I hated that. I never knew what to do with my hands. 

I tried to focus on the sensation of drinking from my bottle. I found the warm milk oddly comforting, and I wanted to sink into that. As I relaxed, I lifted a hand up to Daddy’s face and laid it against his cheek, smiling milkily at him. “Love you Daddy,” I told him around the nipple.

“I love you too Sweetheart,” he leaned in to kiss me on the forehead.

I frowned, thinking about my temper tantrum. “You’re mad at me?” I asked him.

“No. You made a naughty choice tonight, and I spanked you for it. It’s over and done with. Now, finish your bottle so that we can sleep.”

“I don’t really hate you,” I blushed bright red. “I love you.”

“I know that Baby. You were upset. I just wish you would tell me why.”

“You still love me?”

“Yes. Do you remember what we talked about?”

I nodded, and he continued, “Your behavior has absolutely nothing to do with me loving you. Even when you’re naughty, I still love you. Just like you love me even when I make you mad. Now drink your milk.”

I obediently drank, wanting to show Daddy that I was being good now. Although I’d deny it if anyone told Daddy, I found it much easier to do as I was told immediately after a spanking. And not just out of a desire to avoid further punishment. For some reason, once I’d been spanked, I lost any desire to be naughty. At least for a little while. I felt calmer, more secure. 

When the bottle was empty, Daddy set it on the nightstand and tuned off the lights. “Night night Baby. Sweet dreams.”

My eyelids fluttered shut. “Night Daddy, love you,” I mumbled, and then I fell asleep.


	7. More Overplanning

I made it until 11:30 the next morning before I began obsessing again. So, about 15 hours between the spanking and my decision that I should do some more wedding planning.

Pulling up the Disney website and my Google account on the computer, I began going over my lists again.

We were down to the wire. We were heading into August, and we had to make the rest of our decisions. Daddy wasn’t helpful; the more I told him that we needed to let people know, the more he felt like everything was fine. We had to send out invitations in two weeks; we had to know what our meal options were.

Going over the menus again, I realized we hadn’t picked a menu for the rehearsal dinner. I tried to breathe. It was okay. I just had to make a decision. I sent a quick email to Laura asking for help.

Laura, whom I was considering marrying instead of Daddy because at least she got the importance of these decisions, emailed me back within 15 minutes. After telling me to take a breath, she asked what my favorite Disney movie was. 

She followed up, less than 30 seconds later, with an email telling me not to think about it but to just answer. I sent a response, trying to just answer the question in front of me. It was a toss up between Lady and the Tramp and Lilo and Stitch. Daddy and I had watched Lady and the Tramp the first time I got sick, but I loved how bad Lilo was.

My phone rang a moment later. “We’re still going retro chic?” she asked, not bothering to identify herself.

“Yeah. I guess. Why?”

“Lady and the Tramp it is then. Your wedding party planned on going into the park anyway, right?”

“Yes,” I was not sure where she was going.

“Tony’s. It’s kitschy but still romantic, and everyone loves Italian food.”

“I love you,” I said, only half-kidding. “I keep trying to get Mark to make choices, and he keeps telling me to take a breath. I can breathe the rest of my life; we have a limited window to make these decisions.”

“Men don’t get it. Are you okay with a dry rehearsal dinner?”

I thought for a minute of all of the weddings I had attended with hung-over members of the wedding party. “I think that sounds perfect,” I said. “Should I look at the menu online to decide what we’ll serve?”

“El, may I make a suggestion?”

“Please. I need someone else to help with this stuff.”

“Keep it simple. You can pick the menu if you’d like, but I’d recommend you go with classics. We can do spaghetti and meatballs with just a garden salad. They have amazing tiramisu. It’s up to you, but if you’re good with that plan, then we’ve got the rehearsal dinner set.”

She was right. We worked out a few more details that had come up, and then I hung up. I made another list, this one of things to tell Daddy when I got home that evening. 

It was Wednesday, my late night. Daddy was lying on the couch, and I dropped my bag and kicked off my shoes so I could join him. 

“We’re having Italian for the rehearsal dinner,” I told him.

“El, Baby, you know I love you?” he asked me.

“Uh huh. Just spaghetti and meatballs. No drinking. You told everyone that they won’t marry us if someone in the wedding party is drunk, right?”

“That sounds good. And yes, I’ve told everyone repeatedly: no drinking until after the ceremony. Baby, listen: I need a break from planning the wedding Princess. Just one night, no wedding plans.”

“Daddy, we need to finish this.”

“No Baby. Not tonight,” he sat up and pulled me into his lap. “Did you eat dinner with your kids?”

“Daddy, I really want to talk about this.”

“And we will. Tomorrow. I’m declaring this a wedding free zone for the evening. Now, did you eat dinner tonight?”

I shook my head no, “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Come on,” he helped me stand up, and then he shooed me into the kitchen. “What would you like to eat?”

“I”m not hungry Daddy. It’s important that we figure this stuff out.”

“Eleanor, we’re not talking about the wedding anymore tonight. You need to eat. What would you like?”

I shook my head no, “I don’t want to eat anything Daddy.”

“I can make peanut butter and jelly, or you can have scrambled eggs and toast. What will it be Baby Girl?”

“You know,” I complained, “You’re always saying that I don’t listen Daddy, but you’re a really bad listener.”

He turned and looked at me, raising one eyebrow. “I’m sorry; I must have misheard you,” he said, his voice pleasant.

I should have just stopped then; he gave me an out. I am not a smart girl. “I said that you don’t listen to me,” I put my hands on my hips, giving him a hard look.

Daddy crossed his arms over his chest, standing up straight. He was very tall; this was a fact I often forgot. “I’m going to make you dinner Baby. I’m thinking that you should sit down and color while you think about how you want to spend the rest of the night. Because right now, your behavior is telling me that you want to spend the evening with a sore bottom.”

I pouted as I sat down at the counter. “I need a coloring book Daddy,” I told him, my voice snotty.

Daddy shuffled through my coloring books; he kept them on the other side of the counter in my cupboard. Picking one, he handed it to me.

Ugh. Butterflies. “I want the princesses tonight,” I said, shoving the coloring book he’d given me across the counter. I slightly miscalculated the distance, and it flew and hit the floor.

Daddy turned slowly to look at me, an incredulous expression on his face. “You can pick that up and then sit down and color. You’re not to get up until you eat your dinner. And no, you may not have the princess coloring book tonight. I said no wedding planning, and I know that book is going to make you want to talk about something about the wedding.”

I started to protest, and Daddy held his hand up, gesturing for me to stop. “If I have to tell you again, you’re getting a spanking. This attitude problem of yours needs to be gone. Now get up and do what I told you before I decide that you need an incentive to behave yourself.”

My eyes widened, and I got up to grab the coloring book from the floor. Sitting back down in my spot, I looked at the book for a minute. Shit. I hadn’t bothered to grab colored pencils... I could ask for them, or I could get them myself. Neither option seemed safe to me at the moment; I had pushed Daddy too far, and he wasn’t joking about spanking me. 

I took a breath, and then I made my decision. “Daddy?” I said meekly.

“Yes?” Daddy’s tone was not promising.

“May I please have my colored pencils?” I looked at my hands as I asked, hoping that Daddy could tell that I was really asking, not being a brat.

Daddy sighed, grabbing the colored pencils and turning to me. “Here,” he tried to smile at me. “Now, will you color me a picture Baby?”

I nodded, not making eye contact, and set to work. Daddy watched me for a minute, and then went back to making me eggs.

It took him about ten minutes, but then he slid the plate with eggs and toast in front of me. I picked up my fork and looked at it for a minute. “Can I have strawberry jam please Daddy?” my voice was timid as I asked.

“Yes you may. Thank you for asking so nicely.” Daddy grabbed the jar of jam from the refrigerator, he snagged the bottle of orange juice as well. I spread jam on my toast and started eating while he poured my drink into a sippy cup.

I was hungrier than I thought, and I bolted down my food without really tasting it. When I was finished, I stood up, “Thank you Daddy.” I began carrying my plate to the sink.

Daddy held his hand out to take it, and then he turned to sink to rinse it off, “I think it might be time for a bath,” he suggested.

I didn’t want a bath. Baths meant bed, and I wasn’t ready to go to sleep. More than I wanted to stay awake though, I wanted to avoid a spanking. I followed Daddy into the bathroom and held still as he undressed me and ran my bath. 

Once I was settled into the tub, Daddy handed me my bath crayons and began washing my hair. “Did you have a good day Baby Girl?” he asked me, his voice calm. 

“Uh huh. The visit? The late one? It went pretty well. The 12 year old was sad at the end, but I think that I’ve got both girls trusting me pretty well. Cheeseburgers are the key,” I smiled at him.

He began massaging the shampoo into my scalp, and I leaned my head backward, closing my eyes in contentment. He laughed a little, “Does that feel good Princess?”

I nodded, smiling at him again. I wasn’t ready for bed, but I did love it whenever Daddy did anything with my hair. I held myself still, practically purring in contentment, as he finished washing and conditioning my hair. 

“What story should we read tonight?” Daddy was more relaxed now than he had been. We were both feeling less tense. Maybe I could get through the night without another problem.

“Mrs. Piggle Wiggle,” I said, giggling a little as Daddy rubbed the soap across my back, following with his fingers. 

“What are you giggling about?” Daddy asked me, grinning as he fluttered his fingertips across my back again. 

“Tickles Daddy,” I shifted. It had taken us close to a year before I could let him do anything that tickled without panicking. The sensation of his fingers across my back had become soothing; a reminder of how comfortable Daddy could make me feel. When I let him.

That thought made me feel guilty. Daddy made me feel better, and I had been stressing out and doing exactly what I had promised him I wouldn’t. I looked down at the bath water; I wished that I hadn’t been naughty. 

Daddy would help if I told him, but he would probably spank my bottom too. He would almost certainly think that a spanking would help more than anything; if I was going to be honest, he was probably right. 

I bit my lip. I should just tell.

“What’s the matter Baby?” Daddy asked me, gently sluicing the soap from my skin.

I shrugged. “Can I have juice?” I asked, sidestepping the question.

“Are you allowed to have juice in your bottle at bedtime?”

“No Daddy,” I said, shaking my head. He was worried that the acid in the juice would hurt my teeth. “I just wanted some cranberry juice.”

“You can have juice tomorrow morning if you’d like. Do you want a bottle tonight?”

I nodded, “just water if I can’t have juice please.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to get out of the tub and get your jammies on?” he asked, gently tapping my nose with his finger.

I nodded. I needed to tell him, but I didn’t want to. Daddy helped me to stand up and gently patted me down. “Lotion tonight Baby?”

I nodded again, sprawling on the bed so he could put lotion on my arms and legs. “Can we go do something fun this weekend Daddy?” 

“What were you thinking?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. Just something special.”

He helped me sit up and pulled a tank top over my head. “If you’d like,” he smiled at me, “We could go to the aquarium.” I slipped panties over my hips, and then sat still while he quickly brushed and braided my hair. “Are you coming with me to check the doors?”

I held my arms out to be lifted, and then reached for Stella. “Doors and then my bottle?”

He nodded, and then we wandered the house quietly while he checked the doors. When he was done, he filled my favorite bottle with water and ice, and then we went back upstairs. 

“Can we rock?” I asked him. 

“Do you want to rock, or do you want a story? Because we don’t have time to do both tonight Baby.”

“Just rock then,” I drank from my bottle as he settled us into the chair. 

“I’m really proud of you,” he told me, as I curled against him and listened to his heartbeat.

I lifted my head a bit to look at him. When he didn’t offer anything else, I asked, “Why?”

“Because. We were having a bad night, but you decided to make good choices. It makes me really happy. Remember before? You used to think that just because something was already bad that it meant you should just keep being naughty.”

I nodded. Now I felt really really guilty. 

Daddy’s hand reached up to gently stroke back and forth on my arm. “You’re being such a good girl for me tonight Princess,” he praised me.

Crap. “Daddy...” I trailed off.

“What is it Baby?” he smiled down at me.

I forced myself to sit up so I could make eye contact, propping myself up with my hands against his chest, straddling his legs. “I did something bad,” I admitted.


	8. Confessing

Daddy stopped rocking for a split second, and then he continued. “Can you tell me what you did?”

I took a deep breath, biting at my lip. I didn’t want to have to say it; I just wanted him to know. It was too hard to say what I had done. I hated it.

I took another breath, and then leaned down against him, hiding my face in his shoulder. It was easier if I didn’t have to see.

“I’ve kind of been obsessing,” I whispered. 

“About what?” Daddy’s voice was soft, and he continued stroking my arm. I brought my hand up to my mouth and chewed on my thumbnail. 

“The wedding,” I mumbled.

“Thumb out Baby,” he admonished me, tugging it away from my mouth, “Don’t chew on yourself please.”

“I know you said not to...” I trailed off.

“I did,” he agreed.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I would assume so. I know you don’t like it when it happens either.”

“I just...I just wanted everything to be perfect. And I kept thinking and thinking about how I could make it better.”

“How much time Baby?” Daddy didn’t sound angry, just sad.

“A lot,” I whispered, ashamed.

“I guessed that much. How much is a lot though?”

“Kind of every day,” it sounded so very very bad now that I was saying it out loud.

“How much every day Baby,” Daddy’s voice was incredibly patient as he continued to encourage me to answer.

“Whenever I’m not working.” Now that I had told him, I was kind of regretting telling him. It was making me evasive. Daddy knew that I worked like a crazy lady when I was at the office; I never even bothered with a lunch break, opting to work through so that I could have more hours each week. 

It was an open secret; Daddy had decreed only a certain number of hours a week, and I had agreed to eat lunch. Strictly speaking, Daddy had not intended for me to eat my sandwich while answering emails and writing ancillary contacts, but he ignored it because I was finally bothering to eat.

So saying that I was planning the wedding whenever I was not working made it sound like maybe I was getting in an extra 25-30 minutes a day as I waited for responses from people or supervised parenting time. When in actuality, I had found that I could do quite a bit of work at home when Daddy wasn’t paying attention. Which left me with an additional hour or two (or three) each day that I could spend planning wedding.

Using the Internet on my cell phone so that I could email Laura had probably bumped it even more than that. 

Daddy sighed a bit, “I’d like to know exactly how much time you’re spending please Princess.”

“Sometimes like an hour at the office.”

“Other times?”

“Three. More if I have a lot of time at court because I can send emails while I wait for my case to be called. I’m really sorry Daddy. I didn’t mean to do it, but I just wanted to get everything done, and I kind of just figured an extra 15 minutes wouldn’t matter so much. Then it just kind of snowballed.”

Daddy was quiet. He was still rocking the chair and stroking my arm, but I could tell he was thinking.

“How long?” he finally asked.

“When did we start planning the wedding?” I tried to make a joke.

“Eleanor,” Daddy’s voice was full of censure, and I colored, embarrassed.

“Sorry Daddy,” I whispered. “I just...I wanted it to be really good,” I sniffled a little as I said it. I felt badly about not doing what Daddy said, but I still felt like making the wedding perfect was important.

And that was really the problem. This is why I needed Daddy, why we had started doing this to begin with. Because I couldn’t be rational when it came to me. Because there was this part of me that got all crazy and made me think that making stuff perfect was really important. Like it was the most important thing on Earth. And the crazy voice also insisted that not only was it the single most important thing I could do, but it was also possible; I just had to try harder.

And even as I sat on Daddy’s lap thinking that, and knowing that making the wedding perfect was not only an impossibility, but also one of the least important things I would ever do with Mark, I still wanted to debate cake flavors and Angel Kiss against Really Red lipstick.

“I don’t mean to be like this,” I told him, my voice subdued. I blinked tears away, “I love you. I know it’s the marriage. I get that being married is the important part. I want to be married to you. There’s just this part of me that keeps saying that the wedding is really important. I’m sorry; it’s selfish.”

“It’s okay to be excited about the wedding Baby,” Daddy reassured me.

“Maybe we should just get married at City Hall,” I hated that idea, but it was what I deserved. I was too worried about the wedding; it would serve me right to have the stupid anti-wedding that I had been trying to avoid.

“No,” he told me. “You want the big wedding. I’m not going to spank you for wanting a fancy party Princess. Especially because I think part of this is because you want everyone to have a good time. It’s not about you being selfish.”

“A little bit,” I said.

“Okay. It’s maybe a little bit being selfish.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

“I know that. You know that I’m not angry?” he asked.

“You don’t get angry at me. You get disappointed,” I dutifully recited. My voice lowered, nearly a whisper, and I blinked back tears, “I’m sorry that I’m a dis’ppointment Daddy.”

“You are not a disappointment,” Daddy softly emphasized you. “Even the fact that you got really excited and maybe a little weird about the wedding isn’t a big deal. But what are you supposed to do when you need help with the crazy thoughts?”

“Tell you,” I mumbled, tracing circles on his chest with my finger.

“That’s right Baby. I want you to tell me this stuff. Not because I’m mean. Not because I want to ruin your fun. I want you to tell me stuff because I want to be able to help you. And I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I know,” I whispered. I felt a tear slip down my face, and I quickly pushed it away. He was so damn nice when I screwed up, and that made me feel even worse. “I didn’t mean to be bad Daddy. I wanted to fix it myself. I wanted to make you proud of me because the wedding was great and I did it without messing up.”

“Baby,” Daddy sounded shocked, “I am always proud of you.”

“But you would have been prouder if I could have done this without being crazy.”

“It would have been great if you had planned the wedding without obsessing. Because it would have been good for you. But you didn’t. And that’s okay. I would have been just as proud if you had told me when you needed help. Because you can’t always help obsessing Baby. That’s just kind of how your anxiety ends up working some of the time. And when you can’t make yourself stop, then you can’t. I’m disappointed that you didn’t ask for help though. Because that’s something you can control, and you chose not to.”

“Uh huh,” I felt more tears, and I sniffled again.

“But, I am very proud that you’re telling me now. I wish you had told me when it first started, but you made a really good choice tonight to tell me instead of letting it get worse.”

“Am I getting a spanking?” I finally asked.

“That’s what happens when you don’t ask for help when you need it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You ready for your spanking?”

I nodded, sniffling again, “Yes sir.”

“Alright then,” Daddy helped me stand up, and then he led me to the bed, where he sat down and pulled me in front of him.


	9. Spanking

Standing between his thighs, I felt fidgety. I was glad that I wasn’t keeping secrets from Daddy anymore, but I wasn’t looking forward to the spanking. I had my hands clasped in front of me, playing with my fingers.

Daddy caught both of my hands in one of his. “It’s okay Baby. We’ll handle this, and it will be over and done with.” 

I nodded, my lip quivering now. I hated this part. Daddy let go of my hands and put his hands on both of my hips. “You’re being such a brave girl,” he praised, as he stuck his thumbs into the sides of my panties and slowly tugged them down to my knees. Gravity did the rest.

Daddy helped me lay across his lap, my chest resting on the bed. He pushed my tank top up my back; from a logistical standpoint, it was unnecessary. My shirt had pulled up slightly when I went over Daddy’s knee, and it was above where he would aim his swats. From an emotional standpoint, the two inches further, exposing my back, felt very very important. I whimpered slightly.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, stroking my bottom. “Can you tell me why we’re doing this?”

I sniffled, sucking my lower lip in between my teeth. “Because I broke the rules about planning the wedding. And I didn’t tell you that I was getting upset.”

“That’s my good girl. Thank you for answering my question,” he raised his hand and brought it down sharply.

I bit back a sob. The first smack didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t that bad. Mostly, I was upset that I had found myself in this position yet again. Sometimes, it felt like I wasn’t learning anything. Like no matter how many times I got spanked, I just kept making the same damn mistakes.

“Don’t do that Baby,” Daddy admonished me.

“Do what?” I managed to ask, even though I was crying.

“This spanking is about not listening to the rules about how much time you could spend planning the wedding and not letting me know you needed help. That’s it. You pay attention to that, not whatever else you’re beating yourself up over.”

I nodded, my head, crying. Daddy had continued spanking steadily, and I was pretty uncomfortable. 

I forced myself to focus on the spanking and on doing what Daddy had told me the next time I was tempted to break the rules. I tried to hold still, even as the sensation in my bottom increased from discomfort to pain.

I didn’t want to beg Daddy to stop; I deserved every single smack that Daddy gave me, and I wasn’t going to try to get out of it. He was always fair; I needed to let him spank me until he thought it was enough without trying to make him feel sorry for me.

Even as I was thinking this, I could feel my legs involuntarily moving. I clasped my hands in front of myself. I wasn’t going to reach back.

I let out a sob. It really hurt. Daddy wasn’t lecturing me much, and all I could think about was what I’d done wrong and how much the spanking hurt. 

“It’s okay that you got upset and anxious Eleanor. But it’s not okay that you didn’t ask for help. I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Daddy lifted one of his legs to expose the back of my thighs, and he began spanking even harder.

I wailed and kicked wildly, “Sorry. I’m sooooooo sorry,” I choked out. I didn’t want to ask him to stop, but I couldn’t not say anything.

“I know. You always are.” Daddy didn‘t sound angry as he said it, but he continued spanking me, and I hung my head, sobbing hard. I couldn’t stop my legs from moving, and I had unclasped my hands and now had a death grip on Daddy’s leg. He was going to have a bruise from it. 

I choked a little, coughing hard. I couldn’t breathe around crying. Daddy stopped spanking me immediately, and helped me stand up. 

“Breathe Baby,” he ordered, holding my face between his hands. “Deep breath. You’re okay.”

I nodded, still sobbing as I tried to suck some air in. I couldn’t stop crying long enough to get a good breath. Then Daddy whacked me hard, between my shoulder blades. 

I inhaled after that. I was still sobbing and shaking, but I managed to force myself to keep breathing.

“Good girl,” Daddy praised me again. “All done. That’s my good Baby. Deep breath again,” Daddy kept up a soothing patter as he pulled me into a hug and began rubbing slow circles on my back. I buried my face against his shoulder, sobbing hard and hiccupping. 

When my crying had tapered down to the occasional spastic inhalation, Daddy pushed me away from him, gripping me by both of arms. “I think we need to cuddle for a while. You think Princess?”

I nodded. Daddy stood up, and I held my arms out to be picked up. I didn’t want him to let go of me, not even for the ten feet it would take to get to our chair. Daddy smiled as he picked me up, and he nuzzled my hair as he walked slowly to the chair. Sitting down, he began rocking. I relaxed against Daddy’s chest, my thumb going automatically to my mouth.

To my frustration, I couldn’t suck my thumb because my nose was stuffed up from crying too much. I kept my hand at my mouth, nibbling at my thumbnail.

“Here Baby,” Daddy shifted a little, grabbing the box of tissues from the end table and holding one to my nose. “Blow,” he told me.

I shook my head, sniffling as I reached to hold the tissue.

“Go on Baby. Blow your nose please,” Daddy ordered. He wouldn’t let go of the tissue, and he gently pushed my hand away.

I complied. It probably shouldn’t have grossed me out as much as it did; he had changed my diapers. For some reason though, this seemed kinda yucky.

“Good girl,” Daddy told me again, wiping my nose. 

I gratefully slipped my thumb back into my mouth, happy for the familiar comfort.

Daddy rocked the chair smoothly, playing with my hair. It had come out of my braids during the spanking, and he wordlessly slipped the elastics off and unravelled what was left of the braids. Once they were unwoven, he began carding his fingers through my hair. 

I relaxed further, the rhythm of the rocking and Daddy’s hand in my hair helping me calm myself further.


	10. Talking

“I telled Dr. Finnegan,” I whispered. My voice sounded strange, younger than it typically was.

“You told her what?” Daddy’s voice was quiet, near a whisper.

“Yesterday? At therapy? That the wedding was stressing me out.”

“Hmmmm?” Daddy made a noncommittal noise, encouraging me to continue.

“She said I should tell you, but I thought I could handle it myself.”

“But you don’t need to,” Daddy was so quiet, and I could feel the vibrations of his chest against my cheek.

“I wanted to show you I could though.”

“El? Sit up please.” Daddy tried to make me listen, but I didn’t want to.

“Comfortable Daddy,” I mumbled, not wanting the eye contact that he would expect.

“I know. Just for a minute though El.”

I did as he asked, forcing myself to look into his eyes without being told, “You aren’t calling me Princess,” I quietly commented.

“El, do you like this?” he asked me.

I wrinkled my forehead in confusion, “Like what? The spankings? It hurts Daddy, but I know I only ever get spanked if I deserve it.”

“No,” Daddy shook his head. “Do you like doing this with me? Calling me Daddy?”

My eyes widened, and I nodded vehemently. “Don’t you?”

“I love doing this. But we don’t have to. I love you when you’re El, and I love when you’re my Princess. I’m worried because you keep telling me that you wanted to show me you could handle stuff on your own. Is that what you want?”

“I can do stuff myself,” I insisted. 

“I know that. You’re very responsible at work, and I know you know what you need to do. What I’m asking is if that’s what you want.”

“I can do stuff myself,” I repeated. 

Daddy interrupted me before I could finish, “I know that El.”

“No Daddy, listen to me. I can do stuff myself. I just...like it when you do stuff for me. I like this. I just sometimes...” I trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Daddy encouraged me quietly.

“You have to do a lot of stuff for me Daddy,” I told him. “You just wiped my nose! You give me baths and make me bottles. You do so much for me. I just think sometimes it’s too much.”

“If you need more freedom El, we can do that.”

“No Daddy,” I sighed, not sure how to explain to him what I meant without crossing that invisible line into saying mean stuff about myself; Daddy did not like that. “It’s a lot of work to take care of me. I just don’t want you to get sick of it,” I paused, thinking. “Sick of me because I’m too much work.”

“You want to know something El?”

I nodded, biting my lip nervously. I didn’t like that he was still calling me El and not Princess or Baby. It felt weird.

“I worry that you’re going to get sick of me being overbearing,” he smiled at me. 

I started laughing at that. 

“What?” he asked me, still smiling.

“Remember how I told you that I was a mess? And that I was worried you’d get sick of me because there wasn’t anything wrong with you?”

Daddy nodded, waiting for me to continue.

“You’re kind of a mess too. Maybe my low self esteem is rubbing off on you,” I giggled at that thought, hiding my face against his chest. 

“Brat,” he told me, running his hand down my back to cup my bottom. I winced a little, and he patted it gently.

“That’s Princess Brat to you,” I corrected him.

“Okay, Princess Brat. You’ve got to talk with me Baby. I don’t know that you’re nervous about things unless you talk to me.”

“That works both ways Daddy,” I told him. “You’ve got to tell me stuff too.”

“You’re right,” he agreed.

“So we both need to talk to each other more. Did you talk with Dr. Finnegan about this?”

“I didn’t.”

“You should have. She gives good advice; I just don’t always listen to it.”

I curled back up against Daddy in my customary pose, my thumb in my mouth, “Play with my hair,” I ordered him imperiously.

“You’re kind of spoiled, you know that?”

“Uh huh. It’s kind of your fault though Daddy. Hair,” I reminded him.

“Is it now?” His hand went up to my head, and he began running his fingers through my hair. “How do you figure that?”

“You’re playing with my hair, aren’t you?” I yawned as I explained.

Daddy stood up suddenly, tossing me over his shoulder. “Maybe I should be stricter,” he said, running his hand down my back and swatting me lightly on my backside.

“Ow!” I said, my tone aggrieved, “My bottom hurts Daddy. Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry Baby,” Daddy told me as he walked over to the bed. He didn’t sound particularly sorry so much like he was trying to not laugh at me. He dropped me down on my back. “Now,” he said, leaning over me with his hands on both sides of my torso, “It’s time for you to go to bed,” he kissed me on the lips, and lightly bumped his forehead against mine.

“Not yet,” I protested half-heartedly. I was tired, but it was important to always complain about bed. Otherwise, Daddy would think that I needed to go to sleep even earlier.

“Yes yet. I can’t have you getting even more spoiled,” Daddy straightened to standing, reaching to pull down the duvet. “In,” he ordered.

“Okay, but I’m not tired,” I said, even as I yawned again. I crawled toward the head of the bed and slipped between the sheets.

“Understood,” he pulled the covers up over my shoulders, tucking Stella in next to me. “Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“You too,” I begged, holding his hand so he couldn’t leave me.

“Me too,” Daddy agreed, climbing into bed, stepping over me and then settling behind. He clicked off the lamp, and then curled his body around mine. I snuggled back against him, yawning.

“Night Daddy,” I mumbled.

“Good night Princess,” he told me, one of his hands coming up to my head and toying with my hair.

I smiled around my thumb. Even if I felt that I wasn’t learning anything from this little arrangement, I had Daddy pretty well trained. I closed my eyes and relaxed into his touch, asleep in no time.


	11. Preparing & Packing

After the spanking about wedding planning, we managed to come up with a better way to deal with everything. Daddy and I sat and talked about the wedding for 30 minutes every day. 

As Daddy explained to me the morning after he had spanked me, it wasn’t about not trusting me. It was about helping me. I didn’t completely agree with him, but it would have been fair if he hadn’t trusted me.

So, every evening, we sat down and talked for 30 minutes. We made all decisions together. When I tried to explain to Daddy that there was stuff I wanted to surprise him with, he simply shook his head no.

“You already bought the present you wanted to get me, right?”

I reluctantly nodded my head yes.

“Then your secret portion of this is over.”

“I wanted new lingerie though Daddy. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I don’t want a surprise; I want you to not be crazy by the time we get to Halloween.”

I pouted at that. I got that I had misbehaved, but I really wanted him to be excited when he saw me in the new clothes that I had planned to buy.

“I’m going to surprise you,” Daddy continued, reaching out to tap my lower lip with a warning look in his eyes. 

I made a face at that.

“Don’t start,” he cautioned, “You said you wanted things to be a surprise. I’m going to surprise you.”

“That’s not the way it’s supposed to be Daddy,” I protested.

“Baby Girl, does it appear to you that we’re doing much of anything that other couples do?”

“No,” I said ruefully, shaking my head.

“No,” he agreed, smiling at me. “Do you trust me?”

I nodded reluctantly. He did have good taste. “You need to write down my size though Daddy.”

“I know your size Baby. Trust me.”

And so that was how we handled it. Anything that couldn’t be handled with Daddy and I together, Daddy took care of. I was tempted to call Laura on more than one occasion, but I didn’t want to get another spanking.

Not that I didn’t get spanked, but I didn’t get another spanking about the wedding. We were up to the last week before, and we’d planned everything without anymore tears.

 

The Wednesday Before:

It was the last day before my vacation officially started. I had gone into work at 8:00 AM. It was an early start for me, but I had a lot to do. It was now 5:00 PM on Wednesday evening. Nobody else was at the office. Daddy had told me that I could work until 6:00 because we were about to go on vacation.

I looked at my To Do list. Dr. Finnegan, Daddy, and I had spent a lot of time talking about my lists. For a while, I had to talk with Daddy or Dr. Finnegan about all of my lists before I was allowed to use them. Dr. Finnegan said that sometimes I was unrealistic about how much I could get done.

I had progressed to making my lists on my own about 2 months before we got engaged. And for the most part, we hadn’t had any trouble. On the days I overestimated, I would do my breathing exercises and force myself to leave the office.

But now I was about to leave my babies for three weeks. I hadn’t taken that many days off in five years; since I started working full-time, I never took more than three consecutive work days. And even that was rare and typically occurred around a holiday.

As I looked at the papers on my desk, I tried to do what we talked about in therapy. I grabbed my cell phone and set the alarm for 5:50. That would give me ten minutes to finish whatever I was working on and clear my desk off. 

I picked up my desk phone and called another one of my teenagers with last minute instructions about whom to call if they had a problem and admonishments to please please please not do anything stupid while I was gone. I’d actually had to bribe several of them with promises of souvenirs if I managed to get through the whole trip, including my days before and after, without receiving phone calls about problems they’d created. After I finished talking to the last several teens on my caseload, I picked up my phone to check the time. 

I couldn’t leave at 6:00. I knew that now. I had less than 15 minutes before my alarm would go off now, and there was no way to get everything settled enough that I could leave my kids for three weeks. I drummed my fingers on my desk, thinking. 

Then, sighing, I reached to look at my cell phone. The wallpaper picture was of Daddy and me together, and normally, looking at it was enough to remind me why I needed to just follow whatever rule I was contemplating breaking.

I would get a spanking. I knew I would get a spanking. That was how it worked when I broke rules. And it would probably be a pretty bad spanking because Daddy typically was more disappointed when I thought about doing something and then followed through. 

Sometimes, when I got upset, I would just do something without thinking. I still got spanked, but unless it was dangerous or I lied to Daddy, it wasn’t as bad as when I did something like this. Plus, we’d had to “discuss” me working late on more than one occasion. So it would be the spoon or the hairbrush definitely. And, Daddy would call when I wasn’t home at 6:30, and I’d have to either not answer the phone or explain that I wasn’t going to go home.

That was not going to go over well. Choosing to not answer my cell phone would be something that Daddy considered dangerous, which always meant a spanking with the spoon, and that would mean one tonight and another one tomorrow since I worked late. Telling him I wasn’t coming home like I was supposed to would probably garner the same response because it was “deliberate disobedience.” 

Sometimes, I didn’t like our arrangement. Especially when I started to think using the same stupid terms as Daddy. And extra especially when I used words like naughty or disobedient.

With a sigh, I began picking up papers and files, ferrying them to where they needed to be. When my alarm went off at 5:50, I wasn’t completely done. I contemplated my desk for a moment, and then grabbed my phone and called Daddy.

“Hey,” I started out.

“Hi Sweetheart. Leaving work?”

“Yeah...I need to do a few more things. Could I please have just like 15 more minutes? Thirty would be better, but I promise that I will be home by 7:00 at the absolute latest Daddy.” I blushed and looked around. I knew the office was empty, but it was weird to be making this phone call here.

Daddy sighed, and I began throwing my stuff into my bag. He wasn’t going to let me. Then he started talking again.

“This is a one time thing Eleanor. You understand that?”

“Uh huh,” I nodded as though he could see me.

“You’re to be in the house by 7:00. I’d leave extra time if I were you because if you hit traffic, you’ll be late, and I will spank you. But, since we’re going on vacation, you can have the extra time to finish up whatever you’re working on.”

“Thank you,” I told him, scanning my desk and trying to prioritize everything that I could get done with an extra 20 minutes. I’d set up my out of office for my email and voicemail. I’d called all of my clients. I’d clear my desk and then write up detailed instructions for my supervisor. I should email an extra set to Jen, my coworker. She would be the one most of the foster parents would call if there was a problem because we shared several homes.

I got to work, grateful that I could type fast. I managed to get the instructions all together and emailed in 15 minutes. I also attached my contact sheets that had all of the numbers on all of my cases. 

Then, I finished clearing my desk. Looking at my phone, it was 6:20. I forced myself to shut off my computer. I didn’t need to write one more email. It would be okay. 

I grabbed my bag and left, hitting the lights as I walked out and then locking the front door. I stood and looked at the building for a minute. It was weird; I’d never gone this long not being there, not since my interview. Touching the door lightly one last time, I got in the car and headed home.

I made it there at 6:55, and Daddy greeted me with a smile and a hug. “You made it,” he said, his voice full of pride, “That’s my good girl. Hungry?” 

I squirmed a little at that. I still had a hard time with praise. It had gotten easier when I was being little, especially after a spanking, simply because Daddy used phrases like “my good girl” all the time. But when I first walked through the door from being my grown up self all day, or I was talking to Daddy on the phone, it was hard. I kept wanting to brush it off, and Daddy normally swatted me when I did. 

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that it was okay. Dr. Finnegan and I spent a lot of time discussing the idea that Daddy really meant it when he said this stuff, and it was okay to just listen to it and then let it go if that’s what I needed to do. 

I’d tried to get her to convince Daddy that he shouldn’t say that stuff to me, but she hadn’t agreed. Sometimes Dr. Finnegan could be great about allying herself with me about stuff I didn’t like, but she “thought it was important that I learn to accept people complimenting me.” She felt that I assumed people were being sarcastic, and that I needed to accept that sometimes people were being nice because they liked me. I blew a mental raspberry at that thought and then tried to refocus on Daddy.

“El, did you eat dinner?” he asked me.

“Kind of.”

“Yes or no,” Daddy told me, steering me to the kitchen. I hopped onto the counter and sat swinging my legs.

“I wasn’t hungry for all of my lunch. I only ate my sandwich and my carrots. So I ate my yogurt and my apple about an hour ago.”

“What about your granola bar?”

“Do you make lists of what you pack me?” I asked. 

“No, I just know we have granola bars that you wanted that we bought for lunch. Please stop avoiding the question.”

“Gave it to a six year old who got dropped off at 4:00 without notice. She was hungry.”

“Uh huh.” Daddy turned from the refrigerator and gave me a look, “And what exactly is the rule about handing out your lunch to other people?”

We’d had to make the rule after Daddy found out that more often than not, my lunch ended up eaten by either the homeless guy who lived under the overpass by work or by a client who was with me and said they were hungry.

“I know I’m supposed to eat it Daddy, but I ate most of it,” I protested.

“Maybe you shouldn’t get most of a spanking then,” he told me, walking toward where I sat. He didn’t bother to lift me off the counter, simply laying his arm against my waist so he could half tip me, exposing my bottom. He smacked me a dozen times.

It hurt. I only yelped on the first swat, but none of them felt good.

“And you eat all of your lunch from now on. If you don’t want it, then you bring it home like you’re supposed to. I need to know what you’re eating.” And with that, he turned back to the refrigerator. I rubbed where he had spanked me with one of my hands, and glared at his back.

“I eat at work now. You don’t have to check up on me.”

“You eat at work when you aren’t stressed out. That is why I still check up on you. What’s left in your lunch is typically a pretty good barometer for how your anxiety is,” he didn’t bother to turn as he responded to my complaint.

I wanted to protest further, but he was kind of right. “Hey,” I said, brightening, “I ate most of my lunch today.”

“I know that Princess,” he said, standing up and looking at me. “We don’t have any leftovers. Take out or pasta?”

“Pasta. No, but I ate most of my lunch today Daddy,” I smiled at him, “And it was the last day of work. I was stressed out, but I ate my lunch.” I bounced a little as I said it, and then stopped with a wince. 

Food had been a huge issue with Dr. Finnegan and Daddy. I tended to binge or fast, never quite getting the hang of sitting down and eating at regular times instead of waiting until I was starving. I’d actually passed out on Daddy twice before he figured me out and began making sure that I ate regularly.

Daddy spanked me when I got irritable, and he had taken to using the wooden spoon when it was because I hadn’t eaten. I tried to explain to him that I forgot, and that I couldn’t help it, but he disagreed.

Daddy smiled at that and came over to hug me again, “You did,” he agreed. “That’s great.” 

I leaned against him, happy that something had finally stuck. ‘I didn’t want to come home on time either Daddy, but I did.”

“I know you did,” he told me. “You’re being such a big girl; it makes everything so much easier,” he praised. 

I pulled back to look at him. Something was off. “What?” I asked suspiciously. 

He looked at me and smiled brightly, “We’re going to get flu shots tomorrow.”

“No,” I said, hopping off of the counter.

“Yes.” Daddy grabbed me and lifted me back up so that I had to make eye contact with him. Placing his hands on either sides of my hips, he stared at me as he continued, “Because the trip is going to be way less fun if you get sick. If we get them tomorrow, then any reaction you have will be over before the wedding. Hopefully. It would have been better if you’d gone earlier this month.”

“I don’t need a flu shot,” I protested.

“You do actually. And I told you to get one earlier this month, and you kept saying that you couldn’t because you were busy. So we’re both going to go and get one tomorrow.”

I made a face at that. I decided to protest one more time, “I don’t want to get a flu shot Daddy,” I told him, making the most pitiful face I could.

“I know Baby. Nobody wants to get shots. They suck. But you’re going to go and get a flu shot with me tomorrow. This isn’t a discussion.” Maintaining eye contact for a minute, he turned to go back to the pantry when it looked like I was done arguing.

I made a little noise of frustration and brought my heel back to thunk against the cabinets. Daddy turned around and gave me a look. I held both of my hands up.

“It wasn’t a kick Daddy!” I told him. We’d had numerous discussions about kicking and/or stomping, and Daddy had made his feelings on the subject very very clear to me through repeated applications of his hand to my butt. It was not an experience that I wanted to revisit if I could keep from it. 

He crossed both of his arms across his chest and leveled a cool look at me, “Oh, I know it wasn’t. I know that my little girl knows better than to kick or stomp or throw temper tantrums. So I think what that was, was you deciding to get down so that you could go and color while you think about how you want the rest of the night to go.”

I nodded fervently, “That’s exactly right Daddy. I was going to make you a beautiful picture,” I hopped off of the counter and rummaged through my cabinet, pulling out my coloring books and crayons. I rushed over to the other side of the counter and climbed onto the stool, giving Daddy my best smile as I sat down. “See, I just want to color, that’s all.”

“That was what I thought,” he replied, turning back around and focusing on dinner. We managed to get through dinner without anymore problems. Daddy let me watch Monsters, Inc after dinner, and then it was time for my bath and bed.

“I’m not tired yet Daddy,” I told him, my pro forma response to any mention of going to bed.

“I know,” he said, shepherding me through my nightly routine. “What book are we reading?”

He got me settled into bed. We read the last chapter of The Little House at Plum Creek, and then we went to sleep.

The Day Before:

I woke up first the next morning, and I lay in bed for a minute. I couldn’t remember what I wasn’t looking forward to, but I knew that something was happening today that I didn’t want.

Shit. Daddy said we were going and getting flu shots. I tried to figure out a way out of it. Finally, I just slid out of bed and wandered down to the kitchen, standing barefoot in front of the fridge, trying to decide what I wanted to eat. I shivered a little; it was cold.

“Hey Princess,” Daddy stood behind me, sliding his hands around my waist. “Hungry?”

“Uh huh,” I answered him relaxing against him. Maybe I could just keep him distracted until there wasn’t any time. He wouldn’t risk me getting the shot once we left; there wasn’t enough time for the side effects to be gone by the wedding.

“Alright, let’s eat some breakfast, and then it’s time to go to get flu shots.”

Well, there went that plan. Plan B, “Daddy, I really don’t think I need a flu shot. I feel fine. Plus, there are like a million different kinds of flu. You can’t vaccinate against all of them. So it’s a waste of time. We should just relax today instead.”

“Nice try Princess, go sit down please. Oatmeal or eggs?”

“I really don’t need it Daddy,” I walked over to my spot at the counter and sat on my stool. Glumly, I rested my chin in my hand, “Like, I really really don’t Daddy.”

“Eleanor, I told you last night. We’re going to go and get flu shots. I understand that you don’t like needles, but this isn’t a negotiation. I’m sorry; you know that I’m willing to discuss things with you sometimes. This is not one of those times.”

“Not fair Daddy,” I complained.

“Eggs or oatmeal? And if you don’t answer me, I’m just going to make what I want,” he warned me.

“Daddy, I don’t want to get a flu shot!” I wasn’t shouting, but my voice had risen. 

“I think we’ll have eggs,” Daddy pulled them out of the refrigerator along with butter and some pineapple. “Do you want juice Baby?”

I hated it when he ignored me like that. It drove me bananas. “Daddddy,” I half-whined half-yelled. “That’s not fair. You aren’t listening to me.” Pulling back one foot, I swung it into the cabinet in front of me. 

Daddy had been grabbing the stuff he needed to make breakfast, and when I did that, he calmly put everything down except for the wooden spatula. 

“I’m sorry Daddy,” I told him quickly, “It slipped.”

He was already around next to me, not bothering to listen to my excuses. Grabbing me by my arm, he pulled me down off of the stool, and then he bent me across his hip. 

I shrieked as he laid the spatula across my bottom. It hurt. I attempted to wiggle free, but Daddy held me still until he’d spanked me about a dozen times. Once he released me, I began rubbing furiously.

“Daddy! That hurt,” I wailed, jumping up and down a little in one spot as my hands attempted to put out the fire that I was now feeling.

Daddy pointed the spatula at me, “Stop it,” he said, his voice quiet but very firm, “You’re going to march yourself over to that corner,” he gestured toward the kitchen corner he made me use for time-out when he was cooking. “I want you to stand there until your attitude problem is gone. And I don’t want to hear another word from you. Is that understood? I tried to be nice yesterday when you had your little tantrum about getting a flu shot, and you’ve decided that means that you can just keep arguing. Go,” he directed me toward the corner with another smack with the spatula, except this time he had to aim for a thigh since my hands were protecting my bottom as well as they possibly could. 

I jumped and cried out, and then ran to the corner, where I stood, rubbing my backside.

“No rubbing. You can stand there and think about why you’re in time-out.”

I sniffled at that. Daddy normally didn’t care about rubbing. I guess I’d pushed him too far. I tried to estimate how long time-out would be by listening to him cook. It sounded like he’d decided to make something a little more complex than scrambled eggs. As I heard him pulling down a knife, I almost groaned.

Omelets. Which I adore, but meant I’d be in the corner for at least 20 minutes. Yeah, I’d pissed him off. I tried to focus on why I was in time-out. 

It wasn’t very helpful. I knew that Daddy had made me go to time-out because I’d been talking back and kicked the cabinet. Both of which were big no nos. But, I didn’t want a flu shot. And maybe I should have picked a better way of expressing my displeasure, but I didn’t want to get one. 

As I stood in the corner, I felt myself getting more and more riled up at the idea of being forced to get a flu shot. It was un-American, that’s what it was. My ability to make medical decisions was a basic human right. Daddy was just wrong this time. I’d gone almost my whole life without bothering to get a flu shot, and I hadn’t gotten the flu every year. This was stupid.

After I’d been ranting at myself for a while, Daddy called me over to stand in front of him. “Why were you in time out Eleanor?” he asked me. 

“You don’t know? You’re the one who sent me there,” even as I heard that particular bit of attitude coming out of my mouth, there was the rational part of me screaming to knock it off. Daddy was still holding the spatula in one hand, and I really shouldn’t be testing him.

Daddy’s face darkened in displeasure. He took my arm and turned me to the side. After swatting me several times, he moved me back so that I was facing him. “Do you want to try that again Eleanor Rose?”

I stomped my foot, “It’s not fair Daddy. I don’t want a flu shot, and I should be ‘llowed to decide.”

Daddy’s hand shot out to smack my bottom again, “You can go back to time-out until you’re ready to discuss this without the sass.”

I stood in front of him, my hands on my bottom, glaring at him.

“Go,” he said. He didn’t sound like he intended to let this go.

I started stomping back over to the corner. I hadn’t made it two steps before Daddy caught my arm and pulled me back against him. He applied the spatula to my ass another dozen times. 

“You go ahead and try that again Eleanor Rose. If you want to keep giving me attitude, I can keep spanking your butt,” he pointed at the corner again.

A thought occurred to me. Daddy would make me stay in the corner all day if he had to. Which meant no trip to Target for a flu shot. I went back to the corner, this time without stomping my feet. No reason to earn myself any more swats. 

I stayed in the corner, pretty pleased with myself, for another ten minutes or so. Daddy kept moving around the kitchen. I heard him put two plates on the counter, and my stomach grumbled softly. I was hungry. I bit my lip. 

I straightened my shoulders and stared determinedly at the corner. I was hungry, but he wouldn’t starve me. Then I heard Daddy call me over.

“Eleanor, you need to come eat your breakfast.”

I turned, looking at him. I wasn’t sure what his game was. “I’m not ‘pologizing Daddy,” I told him.

“You will. Eventually. But you need to eat your breakfast so that you can take your pill. And you’ll go back to time-out until you’re ready.”

Fine. I’d still win. And I’d get to eat breakfast. I sat at the counter, wincing slightly as my butt hit the stool. That spatula stung. I was hoping it wouldn’t become a regular part of Daddy’s arsenal. 

Picking up my fork, I began eating the omelet Daddy had made for me. I smiled; spinach, tomato, and feta. My favorite. After a few bites, I drank the juice Daddy had handed me. I kept eating, making sure to finish the omelet, juice, toast, and fruit that he had given me. I was full before I finished, but I didn’t want to do anything to upset him further.

After I finished eating, Daddy took my plate wordlessly and rinsed it off at the sink. I stood up to go back to the corner. 

Daddy turned and gave me a look, “You stay where I put you until you’re told to move.”

“I’m not apologizing,” I said.

“You sit yourself back down on that chair and stop it Eleanor Rose. I’ll tell you what you need to do next; there’s no reason for you to be moving or talking until I tell you otherwise right now.”

I sat back on the stool with a thump, then winced. He must have figured something out. Shoot. Daddy was hard to outsmart. Sometimes I think he might know why I do stuff better than I do.

I watched him wash the breakfast dishes and put everything away. Except, of course, for the spatula. 

“Okay, time to go upstairs so I can take a shower.” he held his hand out to me and waited, keeping the spatula in his other hand.

I reluctantly moved toward him. Gripping my hand, he led me to the bathroom, where he moved me right over to the only unoccupied corner. Once I was standing there, he pulled my nightgown over my head, and then turned me to face the wall. Nude, I crossed my arms across my chest. I wasn’t sure what his game was.

“You can stay right there until I tell you to move.”

I forced myself to stand up straight. He wasn’t going to break me. I stood in the corner while he got into the shower and bathed. When he was finished, I heard him walking around the bathroom, brushing his teeth and shaving. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m cold,” I complained.

It wasn’t a lie. October in Detroit is no joke. Even in our home, it got chilly. I had been shivering since I woke up that morning, and frankly, it was weird that Daddy hadn’t sent me right up to the bedroom for my slippers and to grab my blanket.

“Uh huh. If you’re ready to talk about why you’re in time-out, we can talk. Otherwise, you need to be quiet.”

I gasped at that. Other than the spankings, Daddy had never done anything intentionally that was even uncomfortable. Physically at least. It’s not like I enjoyed getting my mouth washed out with soap or going to time out, but the only thing that was ever anything other than emotionally or mentally upsetting was the spanking. 

“Daddy, I’m cold,” I complained again. My eyes filled with tears, not sure what he was doing here but not liking it at all.

“I heard you. I’m going to finish getting ready and then I’ll get you dressed so we can go to Target. Don’t worry, when we get back and you’re in time-out again, I’ll make sure to turn the thermostat up.”

I turned around and gaped at him. All of this, and he was still going to make me get a flu shot? 

Daddy gave me a look, “You can turn yourself right back around Miss.”

“That’s not fair Daddy,” I protested.

“Either you’re ready to discuss what happened this morning or not. If you are, then you’re going to have to wait until we get back from getting the flu shots because we need to get that done with.”

“You’re mean,” I grumbled, turning back around.

“Eleanor, are you ready to talk about this morning? It’s a yes or no question, and I don’t want any more backtalk from you.”

“Yes,” I said, with a definite note of defiance in my voice.

“I can tell from your tone that you aren’t. You need to come into the bedroom with me so that I can keep an eye on you while I get dressed. Then I’ll dress you and we can go.”

I huffed, crossing my arms again. This sucked.

“Here, now,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the ground in front of him. I walked over and stood there, glaring at him.

He didn’t comment, simply taking me by the arm and steering me into the bedroom and into a corner, “You can stay there for now please.” His voice was casually dismissive. 

I glared at the new corner. It was weird. Normally, time out took place in one room, in one corner. I stayed there until I was ready to do what Daddy asked, or very occasionally when I was sent to time out until Daddy let me back because I’d really done something bad and he needed time to think. Theoretically, the movement from room to room should be making time out easier. Instead, it seemed to be winding me up even more.

Daddy called me over to him. “Go sit on the bed please,” he said.

I went over to the bed and sat down, pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms around them. I didn’t like being naked in front of Daddy like this. It normally felt okay when I was going to take a bath or he was dressing me, and obviously we were naked with each other at other times. Being just naked hanging out when he had clothes on was not fun though. 

I watched Daddy go through my drawers, pulling out my cranberry cords and a grey sweater. 

“I don’t like that sweater Daddy,” I told him.

He turned to look at me. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t like it.”

“I understand that Eleanor,” Daddy was clearly trying to be patient. “I’d like you to explain why you don’t like it.”

“Because I don’t.”

“Does it fit?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it feel uncomfortable?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Does it feel uncomfortable in some way Eleanor Rose? Is it itchy or something?”

“No.”

“Then this is what you’re wearing.” Daddy walked over to me and laid the clothes down. I grabbed at them, grateful for even the ugly sweater I didn’t like. 

“I didn’t tell you to do anything. You sit still,” he ordered me calmly.

I pushed my lower jaw out, frustrated. Daddy was quick and thorough, pulling my bra on and then having me lay back on the bed so he could shimmy my panties and my cords up. He grabbed my deodorant and applied it before pulling my sweater over my head. 

Then, he towed me back into the bathroom where he quickly washed my face and applied moisturizer. It felt really really weird to have him doing this for me. I squirmed uncomfortably. All that got me was a smack to my to the side of my thigh.

“Hold still,” he said.

He grabbed my hairbrush and quickly ran it through my hair. This felt more normal. 

“I’d like a ponytail please,” I told him.

“I don’t believe I asked what you’d like,” was his response. He finished brushing through it and then slid a headband on.

“I need makeup Daddy,” I told him.

“Not today,” he led me back into the bedroom, where he settled me onto the chair and pulled my socks on, followed by my sneakers. 

Then, settling on the ottoman so he could make eye contact with me, he started talking, “You are going to come with me to Target, and we’re going to both get flu shots. I understand that you aren’t happy about it. I’m very sorry that you aren’t happy about it. But, it is going to happen. Now, are you going to behave for me, or do you need a spanking before we leave?”

I sniffled, beaten, “I don’t like shots Daddy,” I cried, my eyes flooding with tears.

“I know,” Daddy remained calm. “Nobody likes getting shots. But this is something you need so that you don’t get sick. Do you need a spanking so that we can do this without anymore fussing, or are you going to stop being naughty today?”

I lifted my hand to my face and used my wrist to scrub the tears away from my eyes. “I can do it,” I mumbled.

“Thank you,” he said. “Come on, let’s go get this over with, and then we can come home.” 

Now that I was being good, his voice was a lot gentler. I held his hand as we walked to the car; he buckled me into my seat.

We drove the short distance to Target, and Daddy got out and walked around to my side. “Come on Princess. Just one little poke, and it’ll be done.”

He tried to be reassuring, and I gripped his hand tightly into the store and to the pharmacy. 

“We need flu shots please,” he said pleasantly to the pharmacist. 

They had us fill out some forms, and then the pharmacist told us, “If you could go sit over there,” he gestured to some chairs, “We can get this over with. I’m the only one who’s allowed to give the shot. Which one of you would like to go first?”

The pharmacist was puttering with a cart with supplies, and Daddy walked me to the chairs, not answering. “Is it going to be easier to go first or second Baby?” he said quietly.

“I don’t want to,” I whispered.

“I know. Do you want to see me go first, or do you just want it out of the way?”

“I don’t want to,” I said again, my voice taking on a tinge of hysteria.

The pharmacist came to stand in front of us.

“She’s going to go first,” Daddy smiled at him, keeping a grip on my hand. “Deep breath El. It’s just a little pinch, and then we’re all done.”

“Trypanophobia?” the pharmacist said sympathetically, pulling my shirt sleeve up and swabbing my arm.

I whimpered, pressing my face into Daddy when the pharmacist picked up the needle.

“Are you sure you want this?” the pharmacist asked me, uncertainly.

“Yes,” Daddy answered for me. He was rubbing my back with one hand, “one little prick, and then it’s over El. No big deal. I promise.”

“Alright,” the pharmacist sounded unsure, but he took my arm again and then I felt him push the needle in. 

I whined a little as he injected the vaccine, trying to not jerk away. 

“All done,” Daddy crooned. “All done. I’m going to get mine, and then we’ll go.”

I could hear the pharmacist unwrapping something. “Sorry,” he told me. “We’re all out of the regular band aids. We’ve only got cartoon ones right now,” he put my band aid on, and then rolled my sleeve back down.

I sat up, rubbing at my eyes, “It’s okay. Sorry,” I told the pharmacist, not making eye contact.

“It’s not a problem; a lot of people are afraid of needles.” As he was talking to me, he had pulled up Daddy’s shirt sleeve and was getting ready to give him his shot.

Daddy smiled at me and held my hand with his free hand. He didn’t even flinch when the needle went in. 

The pharmacist quickly put a band aid on Daddy as well, and then we went on our way. Daddy dropped my hand, putting his arm around my shoulder and hugging. 

“See? No big deal. We’re all done, and you don’t have to get another shot for a while now.”

“I don’t like it,” I told him, still embarrassed.

“Nobody does Princess,” he settled me into the car and buckled me in. “I don’t expect you to like it. You did great in there; it’s okay if you need to hold my hand or even if you cry. You just have to get the shot. And hey,” he smiled at me, “Disney Princess band aids.”

I nodded. I hated getting shots. In part, it was because the needles really did freak me out. But the other part was the way I reacted. Everyone in my family had made fun of me about how panicked I got, which just fed into me freaking out more each time.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“For?” Daddy prompted me.

“I just hate them Daddy. And I hate that I act like a baby every time I have to get shots or get my blood drawn. It’s stupid; I know that it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“Everybody’s afraid of something El. You’re afraid of needles. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sorry that I was naughty this morning,” I said quietly, not looking at Daddy.

“Thank you for apologizing,” he told me. “Now, what would you like to do today?”

I looked at him then. “That’s it?”

“Yup. I just wanted you to apologize and lose the attitude. It’s gone?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then we’re all done. Now, I was thinking that we should relax at home today. What do you think?”

I smiled at that. “We have to pack still,” I reminded him.

“You let me worry about that please. We’ve got half a day before we’re going to pack. What would you like to do?”

I relaxed back into my seat, thinking of what we could do with all that empty time. “Can we play with my dollhouse?” I asked.

“Of course, if that’s what you want.”

When we got home, we went up to the attic and played for about an hour. Daddy cut me off once he noticed that I was shivering. “It’s too cold up here to play right now Baby. Let’s go downstairs and do something.”

“But I want to play with my dollhouse,” I protested. “I can play by myself Daddy. You don’t gotta stay up here if you’re cold.”

“You’re cold. We need to go downstairs please.”

I whined as we walked down the stairs, “Daddy, it’s always cold up there. It’s cause there’s no fabric or anything. It’s just walls and wood, nothing to insulate. If I can’t play with my dollhouse when it’s cold, I’m not ever gonna get to play with it.”

“Maybe we can move it downstairs,” Daddy suggested.

“And put it where? Because I don’t know how we’d explain it away.”

Daddy nodded. “I don’t know then Baby. But for today, we’re not going to play upstairs anymore. What else would you like to do?”

I yawned a little, “Dolls,” I told him.

“Do you think you need to take a nap with Stella first?” he asked me.

“No Daddy. I’m not tired,” I yawned a little again.

“Just a little nap. I’ll sleep too. Then, when we get up, we can pack.”

I didn’t like it, but I followed Daddy into the bedroom. After shucking my cords and my sweater, I climbed into the bed in just my bra and panties. “Not tired,” I mumbled, even as I rubbed my face against my pillow.

“I can see that,” Daddy and I cuddled together, and I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was time to pack. I stood in front of bed, staring. We had bought new luggage for the trip. I say we, but I mean Daddy. Although we had gone on trips together, we’d never been gone for this long before. When I started making a list of everything we would need, he decided that we might as well get bigger suitcases.

I sighed in satisfaction when I looked at the shiny new luggage, stacked on our bed. We had to start packing. We had shipped our wedding clothes to Orlando already, but we still needed everything else packed.

I should make a list. As I was reaching for paper, Daddy grabbed my wrist. “What are you doing?” he asked carefully.

“We need a list.”

“Nope. I’m packing. You need to go play for a while.”

“No Daddy,” I shook my head hard at that. “I know what I want to bring.”

“That’s nice. Who is it that’s in charge though?” he tilted his head, looking as though he was genuinely confused.

I sighed, scuffing my bare toes against the floor, “You are. But can’t I just-”

“No,” Daddy interrupted me.

“Okay. But Daddy? Can I just tell you one thing please?”

“Of course Princess,” Daddy waited, listening.

“You know that I need at least two decent dresses, kind of fancy but still comfortable, and shoes that match, right? I bought the black dress with the cherries on it that’s hanging my closet specifically to go to Florida. And the red dress, the shirt dress Daddy, with the belt. That is for the rehearsal dinner. I have comfy shoes that go with it. And different kinds of bras because I can’t wear the same kind with all of my clothes. And two purses. Right? Because I need a lot. And my red flats and sandals and the black flip flops. And I’ll need sneakers too. But not my black ballet flats because I’ll wear them on the plane. And two swimsuits at least. And Daddy, mostly skirts, because I don’t like shorts. But maybe some jeans too. And two shirts for every bottom.”

“Trust me,” he reminded me.

“I do. I just-if you don’t pack the right stuff, then I won’t have what I need.”

“Then we buy it while we’re there. We sent the wedding clothes already. I know you’ll wear your necklace because you always do. And, I’m going to let you pack your own toiletries because I have no idea what the difference is between the three bottles of stuff you spray on your face. It’s going to be fine.”

I sighed, nodding. “I know. Just remember though Daddy, two dresses. Because we have the rehearsal dinner.”

“What’s the second dress for?”

“Just an extra. They need to have different necklines in case I get sunburned. And two swimsuits because putting on wet swimsuits is gross.”

“Alright,” Daddy led me to the door and pointed toward the hallway. “Go. I want you to go play with your toys. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

“And pajamas Daddy. And one of the swimsuits needs to be my one piece. You know, the lavender one,” I said, even as I was walking toward the attic.

“Dollhouse again Baby?” Daddy asked me.

“Uh huh.” I began walking up the steps.

“Freeze. Come here please.”

I sighed, walking back over to stand in front of him. “I’d like you to put on something warmer if you’re going up there to play.”

I walked over to the dresser and pulled on my sweat pants and a hoody. “Can I go play now Daddy?”

“Slippers too please. And you need to come down if you get too cold. And Eleanor, your clothes don’t belong on the floor.”

I picked up my discarded clothing and tossed it into the hamper. 

“Now?” I asked him.

“Go play El,” Daddy led me to the door, kissed me, and then shut the door.

I took a deep breath as I walked up to the attic. Daddy was smart, and he was good at picking out clothes for me. It was okay to let go and let him do this. It would be fine. 

I settled myself in front of my dollhouse, and I soon found myself engrossed in my play. I smiled when Daddy dropped to the floor beside me.

“What’s going on with your dolls?” he asked me.

“They’re going on vacation,” I said. “The Daddy doll is being kind of bossy though,” I smiled at him.

“Daddies are like that,” he pulled me into his lap and hugged me.

“Uh huh. I’m playing Daddy,” I tried to wriggle free from his grasp.

“That’s fine,” Daddy let me continue toying with my dolls, but he wouldn’t let me off of his lap. “Are you stressing out about me doing the packing?”

I nodded, not looking at him, “I like to do stuff myself Daddy. I know what I want to have happen.”

“I know that Baby.”

“I know you know what you’re doing Daddy. It’s just hard sometimes.”

“You’re doing a very good job Princess.”

I nodded, relaxing back against his chest, still holding the Daddy doll. “Did you pack my medicine?”

“I did. I put some in your bag and some in mine. Plus, you’ll carry some in your carry on.”

“Thorough,” I commented.

“Yup. Did you want Stella in your carry-on or in one of the suitcases?”

“Your suitcase. I’m sharing a room with Gracie the night before the actual wedding, and I don’t think I want to explain about Stella.”

“Alright. You ready for dinner?”

I smiled and nodded, “Can we order pizza?” I asked him as I stood up.

“If you’d like,” Daddy smiled at me and we went down to eat. Once we were done, Daddy let me pack my toiletries. He stood over me the whole time. I lifted a bottle. 

“This,” I explained, “Is for when my skin is dry. This,” I picked up another bottle, “Is for when it is oily. And this,” picking up the third bottle, “Is for when it’s just normal. Toning is an important process Daddy.”

He nodded at me, trying not to laugh. 

I made a circular motion around my face, “Do you think this just happens? Because this is two types of cleanser, three types of toner, spot treatment, two moisturizers, sunscreen, and an eye cream. I have my skincare down to science Daddy. It is important that I follow all of the steps so that I can be beautiful for you,” I smiled at him.

“Alright. I get it. You need a lot of skin stuff. But why three different types of lotion for your body?”

“It’s only two plus the massage bar which isn’t really lotion.”

“What’s this one?” he picked up another pot.

“That’s not body lotion Daddy. That’s for my hands and feet.” I waved a hand at him, “You don’t understand this at all. I need to pack in peace.” I turned away from him and began laying out all of my products. It was good that I was getting my makeup done for the wedding because that meant I only needed my medium makeup bag for the trip. 

Once I had everything together, I handed it off to Daddy. “That’s it. You said you packed my pills?”

“Yes. In both suitcases, and the bottle’s on the dresser to go in your carry on.”

“And my vitamins?”

“Yes,” he told me patiently.

“We should pack bubbles too Daddy. Because I might want a bath.”

“Already did it. I bought new stuff just for the trip. One of the bubble bars has glitter. Now, it’s time for your bath tonight Baby. You need to get some sleep.”

“My carry on,” I objected.

“Go. Fast.” Daddy settled into a chair and watched as I grabbed my kindle, my iPod, and my headphones. I threw them into the satchel I was taking on the plane. I had already put several magazines and the portable DVD player in there, as well as the rings and my present for Daddy.

“Did you pack the chargers?”

“El, stop stressing out about it. I packed everything.”

“Okay, okay. I just like to be sure.”

“I know. It’s time for your bath,” Daddy stood up and gripped one of my hands.

“But-”

He cut me off, “Bath. Then book. Then bedtime Sweetheart. We have to get up early to get on the plane. You need an early night.”

I wanted to object as he led me into the bathroom and began filling the tub while I disrobed, but he was right. “A long bath though Daddy,” I compromised.

“In,” he pointed to the tub.

I climbed in, feeling like he should have committed to my long bath but not willing to push it. “I need my toys Daddy,” I reminded him.

He rolled his eyes at me and handed me the toys from under the sink. Then he washed my hair. When he was finished cleaning me off he let me play for a little while, and then he ordered me out.

“Five more minutes,” I said, yawning even as I protested.

He grabbed a towel and gestured for me to stand up. I made appropriate grumbling noises, but I was tired. After he helped me dry off and put lotion on, I reached for my pajamas.

“No, not those tonight.” Daddy pulled stupid footy pajamas out of the drawer.

“Nooooooooooo,” I whined. “I was good tonight.”

“You’re good every night.”

“No, but I made good choices. I don’t need the baby pajamas.”

“Baby, you’re freezing. It’s cold today, and your feet are like ice.” He shook them out and began putting them on me.

“But I don’t like those. I’ll wear socks,” I begged.

“Which you’ll kick off midway through the night. No Baby, it’s these tonight.” I held still as he finished dressing me, making a face. “Stop it Eleanor. I told you these pajamas, and I don’t want to see any pouting about it. This weekend is going to be stressful enough without you getting a spanking tonight. If you don’t knock it off, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. And I might decide a diaper would be helpful too.”

“I hate these,” I picked at the material disdainfully.

“Bed,” he pulled down the covers and gestured for me to climb in, not bothering to respond to my complaints. 

I slid under the sheets, my face still in full-pout, and then I thought of something. Clasping my hands together on my stomach, I gave him an angelic look.

“I want a bottle Daddy,” I told him, “And then, it’s time for bedtime stories,” I said, smiling innocently.

“I’ll go get you some milk Baby. Are you going to come with me?”

I nodded my head yes, holding my arms out. I didn’t want to stay in bed; I was worried I’d fall asleep while he was downstairs.

We checked the locks, and then Daddy made me warm milk. We went upstairs, and he settled me back into bed.

“Story, then sleep. Are we going to start a new book today?”

I shook my head no, “I want to read fairy tales Daddy. But I think I should get three fairy tales because it’s early.”

Daddy went to grab the book, talking to me as he located it and brought it back to the bed, “I think you should get no stories as it’s time to sleep because you stayed in the tub for longer than I was planning, and we have to get up early, but I’m going to be an exceptionally nice Daddy and read you one story. So pick.”

“I want more than one,” I protested.

“You’re yawning. You’re tired. It’s one story or no reading tonight Princess. What will it be?” he dangled the book in front of me.

“One,” I grumbled, flipping through the book. “Sleeping Beauty,” I handed it back to him, cuddling against his body so I could see the pictures. I moved Stella so she could read too.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, sleepily, drinking my milk as Daddy began reading. I drifted off before he finished, still excited about tomorrow.

“Guess what we’re doing tomorrow!” Daddy woke me up with a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me.

I smiled and rolled over to look at him. I wasn’t normally a morning person, but we were going to Disney World. 

“We’re getting married,” he said, his voice silly.

“I know that. I’ve been planning a wedding,” I yawned and stretched.

“But if we’re going to be at that wedding, you have to get up so we can go the airport.”

I nodded, rubbing at my eyes. “What time is it?”

“4:00. We have to be at the airport at 5:30.”

“‘S early Daddy,” I told him.

“It is. It’s more time than we need normally, but I figured it was better to be ready too early.”

I nodded again, and then moved to push the covers off of myself. “I need a shower,” I mumbled, stumbling into the bathroom.

I was surprised when Daddy climbed into the shower with me, “We’re going to be late,” I told him when I felt his hands on my back.

“That’s why I woke you up early,” he said, turning me around so we could kiss.

“You realize this is probably the last time we’re going to do this before the wedding?” I asked him, as he began laying kisses down my neck. 

“Shhhhh,” he said, “Less talking.”


	12. Travelling

I ended up being right. By the time we got out of the shower, we only had about 20 minutes before we needed to leave. We were racing around the house trying to get ready before the cab got there.

“Three suitcases, two carry-ons, and my wallet. Do you have your ID?”

“Yes,” I told him, checking for it again. 

“Cell phone?”

“Daddy, yes. And you packed the camera into your carry on. I gave the key to Sam last week to take care of Barnaby and bring in the mail. What happened to ‘anything that we forget we can buy when we get there’?”

“You’re sure you have everything? Do you have that lip balm you use all the time too Princess? Because you know the flight is going to dehydrate you.”

“Yes. And I grabbed my extra pills and stuck them in my carry on. We’re good to go.”

We had everything stacked by the front door when I looked at Daddy sharply, “Did you put Stella in your suitcase?”

“Shit,” he ran up the steps and then came back down, carrying her. “I thought you had grabbed her. Go get yourself a yogurt out of the fridge please.”

“You said stay out of the suitcases,” I reminded him, even as I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“I know. I know. I told you to get a yogurt, not eat it,” he took the container away from me and motioned me toward the couch. “Open,” he said, holding the spoon to my lips.

“I can do it,” I complained.

“Not today Baby. You need to eat before you take your pill, and we don’t have time for you to take 45 minutes to consumer 6 ounces of yogurt.”

I wanted to protest, but he was kind of right. I decided to just eat the yogurt without arguing. 

Once we were done, he handed me my pill and a bottled water, watching me as I swallowed it.

“Go use the bathroom before we go Baby,” he directed, waiting until I left to open the suitcase up to stick Stella inside.

After I washed my hands, the taxi was at there. I gave Daddy one last hug. I was about to have to be an adult because we’d be in public. Between now and the wedding tomorrow, we’d be flying, rehearsing, and then I had insisted we have separate rooms so he didn’t see me until the ceremony. I squeezed him extra hard. That had been dumb.

“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured in my ear. “It’s less than 48 hours, and we’ll be married, and I’ll be giving you a bath.”

I pulled back to look at him, narrowing my eyes, “You didn’t pack footy pajamas, did you Daddy?”

He shook his head no, “Do you think maybe the reason I’m treating you like you’re so little is because I know you’re stressed though?”

I made a face at that. I had a feeling, but I didn’t have to like it.

He continued, “Even if it does get scary, I’m still here. We can always duck away and have a few minutes to ourselves if you need it. Do you remember what we talked about with Dr. Finnegan?”

I nodded, “This is our wedding, not anyone else’s. And we’re going to do what we want to do. It’s okay if that makes other people upset because it isn’t my job to make sure that anyone is okay except for me. And even if everything goes wrong, we’ll still be married at the end, and that’s all that matters,” I recited. 

“That’s my smart girl. Come on, let’s get everything out to the cab.” 

We dragged everything to the car, and we were on our way. We had climbed into the backseat, and I was keeping myself stiff, not leaning into Mark like I normally would. Daddy looked at me, and then pulled me over so that I was curled against his side.

I wanted to fight, but I figured that would just ensure the cab driver remembered us. I decided to take advantage of the fact that we were never going to see this guy again, and relaxed into Daddy. 

Daddy stroked my arm gently. I yawned a little as I began to drift off to sleep, and then we were at the airport. I realized to my great relief that I had managed to not suck my thumb.

“Ready Sweetheart?” he asked me, helping me out of the cab.

I nodded, trying to feel brave and adult about how we were going to handle things. 

We checked in and walked to our terminal. Once we were seated, I leaned my head back against Daddy’s shoulder, tired. I started to nod off again, but then they called us to board. 

Daddy let me sit at the window; it was kind of a waste. We hadn’t even been on the plane long enough for the seatbelt sign to go off, and I was asleep.


	13. Arriving

Daddy shook me awake once we got to Florida. I yawned, stretching, and rubbed my face against him. 

“We’re here.”

I smiled at him. 

“You ready to go check in to the hotel?”

I nodded, and Daddy and I gathered our stuff so we could get the luggage and start our vacation. It was warm and sunny, and I lifted my face to the sky as we waited for the shuttle.

“Sky’s blue,” I told him, smiling.

“Isn’t it usually?” he teased.

“Not in Michigan; normally it’s grey and gross this time of year.”

Daddy hugged me against his side, kissing my forehead, “You don’t like the rain?”

“Not in the fall,” I explained. “I like it in the summer when it’s warm and thundery. Not when it’s grey and yuck out.”

“Ahh,” he said, helping me into the newly arrived shuttle.

Nobody else was putting on their seatbelt, but I quickly clicked mine, then poked at Mark. He rolled his eyes, strapping himself in. Gripping my hand, he squeezed it tightly. 

Okay. I sometimes get a little more anxious when I’m stressed out, but cars are dangerous. Irrational El was not the conducter on this particular train of thought.

With that in mind, I snuggled against Daddy. I checked my phone to see the time. It was 10:00 AM. Grace and I had appointments to get our hair and nails done, and I was supposed to be getting waxed too. Daddy had insisted that I get a massage, and I was looking forward to that part of the afternoon. From noon until 3:30, I’d be with Gracie. Then we’d get back to the room, and I’d have to get ready. The rehearsal was at 5:30-

Daddy tugged my phone out of my hand, turning it away from me with a slight shake of his head. He could tell what I was doing. “Don’t worry,” he whispered unobtrusively.

I nodded, smiling. It was okay. The only thing that could happen that we couldn’t deal with would be Daddy and I not getting married; everything else was just fun that we could live without if we had to.

Daddy kept a hold of one hand, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it with his thumb. It wasn’t him playing with my hair, but I tried to focus on that sensation rather than everything we had to do in the next 36 hours.

It was hard, but I managed to pull myself back to the feeling of Daddy’s hand in mine. Dr. Finnegan swore that I could tell my brain what to do; she wasn’t always right, but I really wanted to do what I was supposed to do.

We got to the hotel, and Daddy kept a hold of my hand as he went to the check-out desk. 

“I’d like to go get some ice cream,” I told him, trying to ask without asking in front of the clerk.

Daddy smiled at me, “Just a minute,” he said. 

“You could meet me over there,” I suggested. I was banking on Daddy not wanting the clerk to pick up on anything. 

“I want you to show me around though,” It sounded casual; to someone who didn’t know about us, it would just sound like he wanted to spend time with his fiance and get some ice cream.

It wasn’t though. It was Daddy, telling me to stay with him. I smiled at the clerk and tried to pretend that I hadn’t just been told I couldn’t go and get ice cream because I had the amount of sugar I ate monitored like a six year old.

I tried to stand patiently, waiting for him to finish checking us in. When we finally got our room keys, they handed over buttons that identified us as newly married as well. 

The clerk smiled at me, “If you’re looking for ice cream, just go out onto the boardwalk and walk toward the pool with the giant shipwreck. Beaches and Cream is over there; you can get lunch. Plus, they have giant sundaes.”

I nodded, thanking him quickly. “Ice cream,” I told Daddy, smiling.

Gripping my hand tightly, Daddy walked away from the front desk, “You can have ice cream,” he murmured, “But you need to have lunch too.”

“Ice cream could be lunch. I bet they have peanut butter flavored. That’s protein,” I smiled at him, cajoling.

“One scoop of ice cream, and you need to have real food too,” he smiled back at me, but it was mostly the don’t push it smile. 

“Ice cream is real food. It’s a dairy. We could get a banana split, then there’s fruit too.”

“You know exactly what I mean. And we need to go to the room first. You’re going to die if you don’t switch into something cooler than that sweater.”

“You’re the one who picked it,” I told him, my voice taking on a lightly mocking sing-song tone.

“It was 27 degrees out this morning,” he replied, mimicking my tone.

“Can I get sundae?” I changed the subject. “I need a Mickey Mouse sundae.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Maybe I want to think about it or maybe I don’t want to have a scene?” I asked, trying to clarify.

“Maybe you’d like to order room service so you can spend some time in the corner until your appointments with Grace,” he offered.

I shook my head no.

“Then knock it off before I decide you need some time to think before we split up for the afternoon.” He was talking softly, his head lowered so that I could hear him. “Ice cream is for little girls who behave themselves Princess. Not little girls who decide that vacation means that rules don’t apply. I think we both know what little girls who think that get.”

I shut my mouth. I wanted to explain that I knew the rules applied, but that I also thought that getting ice cream would be fun. However, it seemed like maybe any explanation was going be interpreted as backtalk at this point. And it was maybe a little bit possible that I’d just tried to get what I wanted by testing him in public which is a big no-no that we’ve previously discussed on more than one occasion.

“Are you pouting Princess?” he asked, once we were safely in our room with the door shut.

I shook my head no, “I’m being good. I don’t want a spanking Daddy,”

He led me to an overstuffed chair by the window. Sitting down, he held my hands and looked up. Rather than curling up against him like usual, I opted to straddle his lap, facing him. Leaning in, I hugged him and rested my head on his shoulder. 

I took a deep breath; I felt like I could breathe now. It was weird; the switch to being uncomfortable was gradual enough that I usually didn’t even notice that I was stressed out until I started to de-stress.

“I wasn’t pouting Daddy,” I mumbled.

“Alright. Do you want to change so we can go and get lunch?”

“May I please get some ice cream?” I asked, not moving my face away from his neck.

“You can get a Coke or a scoop of ice cream. If you eat something else first Baby. And you can have soda at the rehearsal dinner tonight too, but nothing with caffeine.”

“The no caffeine rule isn’t supposed to be for special occasions Daddy,” I reminded him.

“This entire vacation is not a special occasion that needs to be celebrated with insomnia.”

“Can we go and get sundaes while we’re here?”

“If you’d like to, then yes. We can go and get sundaes while we’re here.”

“Can we just order room service right now?”

“You need cuddles before you have to go be my big girl Baby?” he asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded, not wanting to move.

“We have to stand up if you want to eat something.”

“I want to sit here. I’m not that hungry.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “Let me rephrase that. You’ve got to eat something,” Daddy struggled up, still holding me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he walked over to the nightstand and grabbed the menu. 

“That reminds me Princess. You’re eating lunch with me, and then we have dinner tonight. Tomorrow, you and Grace need to eat breakfast and lunch. Have them send something up or send your brother to get you food. I don’t care how you handle it, but you need to eat an actual meal. A meal that you would eat if I was there, not peanut butter cups and coke.”

“What if I have butterflies?” I asked him. “I’m supposed to get jittery. I’ve seen enough movies to know that’s normal. Plus, you get my extra special crazy anxiety to go along with the normal bride-type stuff. I’ll probably have those scary prehistoric bugs that could eat you whole.”

“Terrifying,” he replied, dropping me on the bed so I bounced and laying down next to me. “You need to eat Baby. Can I trust you, or do you need me to let Laura know that she needs to make sure you eat?”

I sat up from where I had been dropped, “Don’t tell Laura,” I said, aghast at his suggestion. I did not want anyone knowing about Daddy, and to Laura, he was Mark.

“Princess, you’re not going to be the first bride who needs a reminder to eat.”

I shook my head vehemently at that, “I don’t need help.”

“So I can trust you?”

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Eleanor, do you want a spanking on our first night as a married couple?”

My eyes widened and I shook my head no, “I don’t ever want a spanking,” I told him.

“Then I want you to really think about this. It’s fine if you don’t need any help, but it’s okay if you need it too. The thing that would not be okay would be not eating, and I will find out. You just need to decide whether you need help or not.”

I bit my lip, nodding again as I lay down next to him. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Now, what do you want to eat right now?”

I covered my face with my hands, “I don’t knooooooow.”

“Macaroni and cheese? It’s shaped like Mickey Mouse Baby, and you know that macaroni and cheese doesn’t normally bother your tummy,” I could hear him smiling at me as he laid one hand on my stomach.

I shrugged, not moving my hands.

“El, do you want to explain why your bottom is red to the esthetician?” Daddy sounded sympathetic, but firm.

“Can’t you just order me something Daddy?” I begged him, moving my hands away from my eyes.

“You’re going to eat what I order? No complaining if that’s what you want to do,” he warned.

Dangerous game, I considered my options, and then nodded. It sounded easier to melt into Daddy right now, letting him treat me like a baby. We only had another hour before Grace would be pounding on the door.

I slipped my thumb into my mouth and curled onto my side, watching him place the order. I wanted to wrinkle up my nose when I heard him ask that they substitute broccoli for whatever side they typically included with my lunch. And instead of a soda, he ordered apple juice. 

I managed to stop myself. Daddy was right; I didn’t want to explain to anyone how my bottom had gotten so red. When he was finished, he lay back down alongside me, gently pushing at me until I rolled onto my tummy. He laid a heavy hand on my back and began rubbing slow circles.

“We’re going to be fine,” he told me. “We’ll be married by the time we go to sleep tomorrow, and that’s all that matters.”

I turned my face away from him, bringing my arms up so that I could lay my head on them. “I know,” I felt really little at that moment. I wanted to tell Daddy that this had all been a mistake; I wanted to fly home to Detroit and get married downtown in some stupid public building. 

“Do you want to hear the story Baby?”

I nodded.

“Okay, here goes. We’re going to have a nice quiet meal in here, and then you’re going to go with Gracie to get your nails done. After that, you’re going to get a wax, which I know that you absolutely hate. But it only takes a little bit of time, and I also know that you love not having to shave. Then, you’ll get a nice, relaxing, massage. After that, you’re going to come back here, and we’re going to take just a little nap before we get dressed and go to the rehearsal. After that, we’ll have a nice dinner with our friends and family. And tomorrow is going to go so fast. You’ll wake up and get your hair done,” Daddy’s voice was getting softer and softer, and I felt my eyes fluttering shut.

“Then we’re going to get married; you’re going to look absolutely beautiful. Then we’re going to party. And then, everyone else is going to leave us alone because we’ll be on our Honeymoon.”

I sleepily rolled onto my side, pressing my back against Daddy and pulling his arm around me. Gripping his arm with one hand and slipping my thumb into my mouth, I told him, “Tell me the important thing I’m not ‘posed to forget.”

“Tomorrow, we’re going to be married, and that’s all that matters. It’s your job to follow our rules and focus on doing what makes us happy because this is about us. It is not your job to make sure everyone else is okay. Not tomorrow, and not ever.”

I nodded, drifting to a happy state between awake and asleep that was very rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Daddy tried to slip away without waking me up.

“I’m not sleeping,” I mumbled.

“My mistake El. Just let me get the door.”

I sat up on the bed, watching the cart get wheeled in and left by the waiter. I started to get up to grab my plate, but Daddy stopped me with a hand gesture and a shake of his head.

I sat, puzzled. I felt hungry now that I could smell lunch. Crossing my legs, I watched as Daddy grabbed the apple juice and poured my juice into a sippy cup that he produced from his suitcase. He handed it to me. 

Then, he pushed the cart to me and sat down facing me. Grabbing my plate, he scooped up some macaroni and held it to my lips.

I obediently opened my mouth. Although normally I would protest, it felt nice to have Daddy feed me right now. He always knew what I needed. I smiled at him, eating my lunch happily. Even the broccoli.

Once we were finished, Daddy and I had about 20 minutes to cuddle before Grace got there. Daddy gave me one last hug before I opened the door and went to the spa with my Maid of Honor.

It was actually pretty easy. I had scheduled my wax first, so I could get the worst out of the way. Then, well we got our nails done, I got to talk with Grace. I had to be big, but not really because we’d known each other forever. Grace remembered me from when I was actually four, and she didn’t seem to pay any attention when I had trouble remembering that I was 26 now. 

Finally, we got to the massage. Massages were weird. I hadn’t wanted to get them. Dr. Finnegan had actually prescribed them as treatment. She said that allowing other people to touch me in a way that I found pleasurable but not sexual was important.

It had sucked at first; laying still in a semi-darkened room and allowing a stranger to touch me was incredibly difficult. And then, as I got used to the massage therapist that Dr. Finnegan had recommended, I realized something. Part of the point of it all was for me to learn how to negotiate what I was comfortable with. And so I learned how to do that.

I still couldn’t handle anyone other than Daddy touching my stomach or my knees, both of which were major triggers for me. And I’d only ever had female massage therapists because the idea of a man other than Mark touching me at all scared the hell out of me. But slowly, I’d learned to love them.

I actually kind of looked forward to them most of the time now, and Daddy insisted that I go at least twice a month. 

Today was no exception. By the time my massage was over, I had melted into the table. My muscles felt like overcooked pasta, and it’s entirely possible that I snored during part of it. Once I finally managed to pry myself up and get dressed, I met Grace in the lobby and we went back to the hotel.

Daddy was sprawled on the bed when I entered our room. He was reading, but he closed his book when I walked in. 

“Good time Baby?”

I nodded, laying next to him.

“Now is the time for all good little girls to take naps,” he said, tugging my flip flops off, quickly followed by my skirt. Daddy motioned for me to stand up, and then he pulled the covers back.

“Stella,” I said stubbornly, not wanting to get under the covers without her.

“Are you going to be able to sleep tonight without Stella?” he asked me, even as he went to his suitcase and dug her out.

I nodded, holding out my arms. “You’re napping too?” I asked, wiggling myself under the sheets and curling on my side. Naps weren’t so bad if Daddy stayed with me. Even if I didn’t fall asleep, just relaxing into Daddy’s arms was often just as good at making me feel calm and safe.

He nodded, pulling the covers over me and then walking to the other side of the bed to get in. “No more talking Baby Girl. Time for you to nap.”

“I’m going to need time to get ready,” I warned him, “I can’t just roll out of bed and go. You know my mom’s going to be taking pictures.”

“Sleep. Let me worry about it.”

I grumbled, wiggling again until I was curled up against Daddy. “You set the alarm?”

Daddy’s hand, which had previously been rubbing my hip soothingly made a quick movement, swatting my bottom sharply.

“Ouch,” I whined, putting my free hand back to rub.

“Who is it that’s going to worry about us getting to the rehearsal dinner on time?”

“You are,” I conceded grudgingly.

“That’s right. And what’s your job now?”

I hated when he acted like that. I hated having to respond to questions that we both knew the answers to. “Follow the rules and do what Daddy tells me.”

“Good girl. And right now, you need to close your eyes and rest until I tell you it’s time to get up. Understood?”

I sighed, “Yes Daddy.”

“Thank you.”

I closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind so that I could nap. I was certainly tired enough. Between getting up early, the massage, and Daddy’s hand, which had returned to gently stroking my side, I quickly dozed off.


	14. Practicing

Daddy woke me up in time to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. As I was taking a shower and putting on makeup I thought about that. He always said to trust him, and he typically knew what he was doing. How many women can say their boyfriends know how long it takes for them to get ready?

Shaking my head, I resolved to not tell him that. Then, after a few finishing touches, I rose from the vanity and walked over to my suitcase. As I was bending to unzip it so that I could pull out a dress, I felt Daddy’s hand clap down hard on my bottom.

I jumped and made a little yelping noise, “Why did you do that?” I said, turning around to rub at the sore spot and glare at him.

“I told you to stay out of the suitcase. Go on, finish whatever you were doing; I’m going to get your dress for you.”

“I can do it,” I told him, turning again.

“You can,” he agreed, grabbing my arm and pulling me upright, “But you’re going to do what you’re told. Do you need to find a corner to look at for a while so that you can remember to do what you’re told?”

“No sir,” I said, my hand still clasped protectively across my backside. 

“Thank you. Go on, finish your hair, I’ll bring you your dress in a minute.”

“I need my shoes too. I want-”

Daddy cut me off, “Me to pick out your shoes? That’s good because that is precisely what is about to happen. Now go do what I asked you to please.”

I turned away from Daddy and took several deep breaths, reminding myself that I didn’t want to get spanked before the rehearsal dinner. I didn’t have time to fix my makeup, and it would end up gross if I got a spanking.

I felt Daddy’s hand on my shoulder, and he pulled me back to him. Still facing away, he twined his arms around my waist and hugged me. “I really like that you’re trying to do what you’re told. I know that it’s frustrating and scary for you when you let me do this stuff, and I appreciate that you’re making an effort.”

I nodded, and then wiggled free, heading to the bathroom to finish my hair, just like I was instructed.

I had just finished blowing it dry when Daddy’s hand appeared, setting my dress and shoes on the counter. He had tucked a bra and panties in with them. 

“Are you almost ready?”

I dropped the robe so that I could powder myself, “Uh huh. Like five more minutes.” I pulled on my clothes quickly, and then slid on my shoes. They weren’t exactly the pair I would have chosen, and I wanted to ask for the flats I wanted. Then, looking at myself in the mirror, I realized these looked pretty okay.

“Is it time to go?” I asked, exiting the bathroom.

“It is,” Daddy put down his book again, smiling at me. “You look beautiful Princess.”

I spun for him, the dress flying up. “My purse?”

He handed it to me, and then we walked the short distance to where we would get married. The rehearsal went relatively smoothly. We’d asked our siblings to participate, and my only concern was that my brother would decide to do something hilarious. 

We ran through the service twice, and then we were shooed on our way to dinner. The rehearsal dinner was fine. I applauded myself for the decision to not have alcohol. Everyone was calm and relaxed, and there weren’t any arguments about anything. I leaned into Mark, happy that things were going so smoothly.

“Good day?” he murmured, his face pressed into my hair.

I nodded, “It’s almost over.”

“It is. You and Grace should get back to the hotel. You’re going to need to get to bed soon.”

I wanted to tell him no, but I knew he was right. Plus, the party was kind of breaking up. 

I smiled at Grace, “You ready for your last single girls’ sleepover?”

“I was,” she said, “Last year when we had it. Now I’m married; the world does not revolve around you El,” she made a face at me.

“You’re a bitch,” I told her, standing up. 

Mark stood as well, pulling me close to him in a hug. “Last hug as a single woman,” he told me, loud enough that Grace could hear.

Than Daddy whispered something to me that was clearly for my ears only, “Get enough sleep and eat. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to let me go, but then squeezed me again, “And watch your mouth.”


	15. Talking

I kissed him, and Grace and I left to head back to the hotel. When we got to the room Grace had reserved. I ran and jumped on the bed. Bouncing a few times, I turned to look at Grace.

“You want to order pizza and stay up talking?” she asked.

So very much so. I considered it for a minute. Daddy said get enough sleep, but that was kind of a vague and not very useful way to phrase it. Who was to say what “enough” sleep really was? He’d also told me to eat. And if we ate pizza, then I’d have eaten. Plus, there was a fridge in the room, and cold pizza was definitely breakfast food.

“Yes,” I said nodding decisively. “Do you think we can get them to send over ice cream too?”

Grace picked up the phone and dialed. After speaking briefly, she hung up. “Get your shoes,” she said.

“I thought we were ordering room service,” I said, even as I sat up and found my shoes where I had abandoned them upon entering the room.

“We were going to, but if we walk 5 minutes, we can pick up pizza, and there’s an ice cream shop right next to it. So if you want ice cream...” she trailed off.

I checked my watch. It was 10:30. If we went to get ice cream and pizza now, we’d be back to the room by 11:30 at the latest. That left plenty of time for me to rag roll my hair and sleep before tomorrow. Nobody would be in the room until 11:00 AM at the earliest.

“It’s amazing that you even need to ask me that.” We went to pick up pizza and sundaes, and then hurried back to the room. I really didn’t want to run into any of the other wedding guests. I was not looking forward to any discussions with Daddy about whether I should really have been eating pizza and talking late at night instead of going to sleep like he told me to. And if I ran into anyone, he would find out.

When we got to the room, Grace dropped the pizza box and the sundaes on the bed. “I don’t know about you, but I need to be in something a little more comfortable than this dress if we’re about to have a standard sleepover here.” 

She grabbed her pajamas from her bag and ducked into the bathroom. I took advantage of her being gone for a moment to switch into the pajama bottoms and tank top Daddy had sent over. I’d still have to shower before bed, but there was no reason to keep on my dress if we were just going to be sitting on the bed screwing around.

When Grace came out, we settled ourselves onto her bed, the pizza between us. We both grabbed a can of Coke, and let the wild rumpus start.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she told me, daintily sipping her drink.

I took a huge bite of pizza before responding, “I know, right?” My mouth was full.

“Mostly because of your table manners,” she continued, acting like I hadn’t responded.

I forced myself to swallow, “Bed manners Gracie. This is a bed. Although I now don’t want to eat on your kitchen table because God only knows what you and John have been doing there.”

She smacked me on the arm, “You’re happy?” she asked.

I nodded, smiling. “He makes me smile Grace. And you know I don’t smile.

“Yeah, it was kind of terrifying the first time I saw it,” Grace looked at her hands, then looked up at me again. “El, I’ve got a question, and I don’t want you to get pissed off about it.”

“An auspicious beginning. Continue,” I took another bite.

“Mark’s kind of...” she trailed off.

“Intense?” I supplied.

“He just tells you what to do. Like a lot.”

I swallowed, trying to formulate a response. I grabbed ice cream and started eating it in order to buy some time, “You should eat some of this. Cold pizza is awesome, but ice cream soup, less so.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I just...I know how you are. I want to make sure that you’re sure.” Grace’s face was serious. Worried.

“Who pays the bills at your house Grace?”

“We both do,” she answered, looking puzzled for a minute. 

“Who does the cooking? Who buys the Christmas gifts and remembers to grocery shop?”

“Why does that matter?”

“For me? It doesn’t matter. The way you guys decide to work out your relationship... that’s up to you. You say you’re happy, and I trust you,” I shrugged, not making eye contact.

“I just never expected you to end up with a guy who does that.”

“Does what?” I laughed a little, and voice took on a bitter tone. “Takes care of me? Worries about me first? Because I have to tell you Grace, neither did I. Girls like me don’t get guys like Mark. Believe me, nobody is more surprised than I am that someone wants me for more than making their life easier because I remember to buy birthday presents and can make coffee.”

“El, that’s not what I’m saying. You’ve just always been so independent, and when you’re with him...I just don’t get it.”

I looked up finally, “Maybe the reason I never let anybody do anything for me is because I didn’t trust anyone to actually do it before.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace looked like she felt really awkward. “It’s none of my business.”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and counting slowly. When I opened my eyes, I felt like I could answer her without freaking out. “I appreciate that you worry about me being happy Grace. And yes, he makes me incredibly happy. I...I feel safe when I’m with him. Like nothing can hurt me.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes, the only noises breaking the silence the sounds of us chewing and swallowing.

I couldn’t take it too long. “Sooooo,” I started, “Is this going to be one of those things where we pretend it never happened? Because neither of us are very good at that.”

“I just don’t get it El. I want you to be happy. He’s just not quite what I expected for you I guess.”

I pulled at a piece of crust, breaking a piece off and popping it in my mouth while I thought about what I wanted to say. How much I wanted her to know. “I love him,” I finally told her. It was the simplest response; the truest response. “I feel like he really sees me,” my eyes filled with tears as I tried to explain something that I didn’t really have the words to explain. Especially to someone who would never want my life. “I’ve told him everything Grace, and he didn’t run screaming for the hills. I never thought I’d be able to do that with anyone.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I know. I just want to explain to you why I love him, and I can’t. I don’t know how. Did I tell you he yelled at Michael?”

She looked at me, concerned.

“No, no. It’s a good thing. Last Christmas, Mike said something really douchey. And you know how my family is about that. Everyone just kept pretending that nothing had happened. I made a joke and excused myself. I guess that wasn’t okay with Mark. I went into the kitchen to get a drink, and I heard him rip into Mike. He told him that if he ever heard Mike say something that made me cry again, he’d kick his ass,” I looked down at my hands, and then smiled up at Grace. “You know, nobody has ever done that for me before. We all just act like him being mean to me is totally okay. Nobody rocks the boat because the worst thing that could happen is that we have a scene. Mark thinks that it’s more important that I be okay. Even if there is a scene.”

“Wow. Somebody willing to try to un-dysfunctional your family. Impressive.”

“I’ve never had anyone act like my feelings were the most important. That’s how he is though. What I want is important. How I feel is important. You know what the constant thing that he’s been telling me while we were planning the wedding? This wedding is about what makes us happy; it’s not my job to make sure everyone else is okay.”

“That’s good. I’m really sorry; I just wanted to make sure you were sure because I know that you decide to go on one course, and you just keep going. No matter what.”

“I know. You’re worried about me. You ever thought about the fact that you’re the only person other than Mark who does?”

“Your parents love you El.”

“Okay, um, A, you sound exactly like Mark right now? And B, I know that. I just...I’m saying that my parents are never going to pick me first. And I always just kind of accepted that. Like why would anyone want me? Why should anyone care about what happened to me. You know he gets pissed when I say stuff like that? If I start talking about how unimportant my feelings are.”

“Okay. I get it. I believe you; Mark’s the world’s best guy.”

“I get it too. You’d never marry Mark. For the record, I wouldn’t marry your husband either. And, for what it’s worth, he likes you.”

“Mark does?”

I nodded, smiling as I picked up another slice of pizza, “Yeah, I believe his exact words were ‘you and Grace are kind of pains in the ass together, but she’s the only other person I’ve seen call you on your bullshit.’ It’s high praise.”

“Alright, now I’m kind of liking him. And we are nothing so plebian as pains in the ass. We’re magical and full of whimsy. You tell him that. Text him, right now.

I picked up my phone, looking at the clock, “Um, maybe not right now.”

“He told you to get enough sleep tonight?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, okay. He thinks that I don’t take care of myself.”

“Go take a shower. Are we still rolling your hair?”

“Yeah. That was the plan. Do you want to do yours? I don’t really care what we do with it, but if you want it curly, rag curls work best.”

“Is Mark going to be pissed that we stayed up late?” Grace’s tone was lightly mocking.

“That depends, are you planning on telling Mark that we stayed up until midnight eating pizza and ice cream? Because if you are, could you wait until I’m like 600 miles away? Because drinking Coke and staying up late the night before our wedding? Is probably not going to be interpreted as taking care of myself.”

“What’s he going to do, spank you?”

I stuck my tongue out at her, “Only if I ask for it.” Okay, true but misleading. Daddy did generally tell me that I controlled whether I got spanked, and doing something that was against the rules was asking for it. However, much like I didn’t want to know exact details of what she did with John behind closed doors, I was going to assume she didn’t really want to know about Mark feeding me bottles or washing my mouth out with soap.

And if she did, then she was out of luck. Best friends or not, some things are private.

Grace rolled her eyes at me. “That’s gross dude. Go soak your head or whatever we’re doing to get your hair wet.”

I got off the bed, going into the bathroom so that I could wash and condition my hair. I wouldn’t be bathing again until after the ceremony, and I wanted to make sure that I was looked delightful and smelled delicious. For the millionth time, I was grateful for the fact that waxing meant I no longer had to shave. I was in and out of the shower in less than ten minutes, and then I sat on the bed, rubbing lotion into my skin while Grace showered.

It was a lot more fun when Daddy was here for this stuff. Although it would probably be crazy awkward if he was bathing me while Grace was also here. 

Once she got out of the shower, we sat cross legged on the bed. She rolled my hair first, and then we both spun 180 degrees so that I could roll hers. Covering our heads up so that the rags didn’t get tugged out, we were ready.

“Bed?” I asked her.

“No more chatting on the last night of you being a single lady?”

“We can talk. With the lights off. And my words might sound more like snores. No offense Grace, but I’m kind of thinking I’ll be staying up late tomorrow night, and I’m looking forward to hanging out with that roommate slightly more than you.”

“What happened to us always picking each other?”

“I pick you for many things. But Mark gives me orgasms. And unless you’re volunteering, which by the way no, he gets first dibs on my nights.”

“Except my birthday,” she said seriously.

“Except your birthday. And our friendaversary. Because I’ve known you longer.”

“Fair enough.”

We dead bolted the doors and climbed into our beds. And although I had really planned on talking once we’d hit the lights, we only made it about 20 minutes before I fell asleep.


	16. Beautifying

The next morning, when I woke up, it was to Grace bouncing up and down on my bed. I now get why Daddy hates it. 

“Why must you be a morning person?” I moaned, pushing her with one hand while I rolled over and shoved my head under the pillow.

“Because I’m awesome that way. Do you want waffles? I could seriously go for waffles. Or pancakes. Did you know they’ll make us Mickey Mouse pancakes? We should totally eat Mickey’s face.”

“What time is it?” I groaned, my head still covered with my pillow.

“It’s 10:00. I let you sleep in. Which, by the way, you snore.”

“Mark thinks it’s endearing.”

“I remember when John used to tell me the weird gross stuff I did was endearing. Enjoy the first six months sucker.”

“Just order the damn food, will you?”

I managed to sit up before our breakfast got there, and we sat on our beds, talking as we ate. 

“Damn it,” I exclaimed, “Why is Mickey so freaking delicious?”

“Because of the whimsy dumbass.”

We traded barbs over pancakes. Just as we were finishing, we heard a knock on the door.

“Shit, it’s the makeup people,” I said, rushing into the bathroom. “Let them in while I wash my face and brush my teeth.”

“It’s actually the hair person,” a very peppy blonde woman said. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at me. “What did the two of you do to your hair?”

“We rag rolled it. We think it looks awesome,” Grace jumped to my defense. Cocking her head to the side and affecting a faux-thoughtful look, she continued, “Although, do you think it might look better if we took the rags out? We kind of only read the first half of the article.”

“We’re going retro-chic,” I explained, my toothbrush still in my mouth. “I’m sorry. We were eating Mickey’s face. I just need like 10 minutes and you can start on my hair.”

“I’m going to just run and get my other case,” she said, smiling brightly as she left the room.

“I think we just made a new friend,” Grace commented.

“Very observant Grace. I’m sure telling her that we wanted to keep the rags in our hair was helpful.”

“You told her we were eating Mickey’s face.”

“Touche. I gotta finish brushing my teeth and washing my face. The makeup people have to get here too.”

We had just finished brushing our teeth when Peppy Blonde Woman showed back up, this time followed by another woman, also carrying a large case.

“Which one of you is the bride?” the hair lady asked.

“That would be me. I’m El,” I stepped forward to shake her hand, smiling brightly. I could make a good impression. 

She smiled at me. Okay, that was good. Maybe we were all just going to pretend that we hadn’t sounded crazy when she showed up earlier.

“And what are we doing?”

“Um, we curled our hair last night. We were waiting to take the rags out; I just want soft, loose curls. I part my hair on the side, and I have this veil,” I walked over to where I had all of my clothes and pulled the veil up off of the shelf.

“Okay. And we’ve got down six for hair. Where is everyone else?”

“They’re in another room,” Grace broke in. “Two actually.”

I smiled apologetically, “We were worried that too many people might make it stressful. They’re across the hall. We figured we could do hair in one room and makeup in the other, or maybe hair and makeup in this room and just let the space across the hall be...” I trailed off.

“Where she hides her mother,” Grace helpfully supplied.

“Thanks Grace,” I rolled my eyes, ‘Where I hide my mother. And future mother-in-law. Too many cooks and all of that.”

The makeup artist, who had been carefully unpacking at the table near the window, looked up at me and smiled, “Don’t worry. You are so not the first bride to ban people from her room. Something about weddings. Even if the bride doesn’t go crazy, someone has to.”

“That makes me feel better,” I smiled gratefully. “My fiance has been begging me to just tell them they’re on their own today. He knew that having to get ready while my mother is making helpful suggestions was going to bug me. Not having everyone in the same room was our compromise.”

“So, retro with the makeup as well?” she continued.

“Yeah. I’ve got red lipstick, and I figured strong eye liner?”

“And tons of mascara. That’ll photograph really well. Do you want to do your hair first? If the curls didn’t work the way you wanted them to, that would probably be best.”

I nodded, settling myself where the hairstylist gestured. I sat patiently as she unrolled my rags, and I was thrilled to see they’d actually worked. 

“I tried them back home, but Detroit in October is different from Orlando in October,” I told her, as she brushed them out.

“I think we’re good. I’m going to brush them and apply some product, but it looks like they’ll hold. Your hair is going to be really easy for me.”

Grace was watching us as she carefully took out her rag curls. “Wait till you see everyone else though,” she warned. “El’s got awesome hair. It’s thick, it grows fast, and it takes color really well. Her mother’s hair sucks.”

“Sarah’s hair is good though,” I offered. “It’s a lot like mine, but blonde. I don’t think she wants much done either, just a blow out so it’s shiny. And Mark’s mother and sister, God only knows what they’re going for.”

As we were discussing what possible atrocities could be committed in the room across the hall, the hairstylist was playing with my hair.

“It’s not going to be too much product, is it? I like it when I can still run my fingers through it.”

“No, actually,” with a final spiraling motion through one of the curls, she handed me a mirror, “We’re done. I have to clip in your veil, but you’ll need your makeup first. I can handle her hair and go across the hallway. I’ll come back once you’re ready.”

I lifted hand up to my hair, “It’s perfect,” I touched it gently. “Why can’t I have someone do my hair every day? It looks so much better than when I try.”

“Because that would cost an arm and a leg. Move, it’s my turn,” Grace shoved me, and I got up to go to the chair by the window. 

“I should be complaining about your treatment of me, but I’m too entranced by my beauty right now.”

“Yeah, right now and always,” she responded, holding her head still so that her hair could be finished.

“I brought my own foundation, but if you have something you think would work better, go ahead. Oh, and my moisturizer is over there with the spray toner. Gracie,” I turned my head, “Did you know that Mark thinks I use too much skin stuff? He was laughing at me when I tried to explain the necessity behind my three types of toner.”

“Possibly because that’s insane.”

“I’m not using them all at the same time. My skin is a delicate system,” as I explained I was gesturing around my face, “You can’t just take it for granted. It has to be pampered.”

The makeup artist stood in front of me, “I think I do want to use my foundation,” she told me. “But you have good moisturizer, we’ll use that.”

“It smells like vanilla. My goal is to always smell like baked goods,” I explained. 

“A desire that Mark is wholeheartedly behind,” Grace snarked.

“You are just angry that you can’t smell like delicious cookies,” I lifted my face up, shivering a little in contentment as moisturizer was massaged into my skin. “You’re going to use primer, right?”

“I am. Product junkie?”

I nodded, and then I had to remain still and quiet while my makeup was done. It was weird. This woman was right next to my face, and I had to not really say anything. She kept up a patter while she talked, and I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“You’re honeymooning here as well?” she asked me.

It was like being at the dentist. If I moved, I was going to screw up her blending, and I had to move if I was going to talk. I waited until she moved to get another brush. “Yeah. We’ve never been here together.”

She was off telling me all the things that she thought we should do. I tried to smile and nod when she wasn’t touching my face, but mostly I just wanted her out of my room. She was just so perky.

Finally, she was done. My veil was gently clipped into my hair, and then I looked at myself in the mirror. Damn, the woman was chatty, but she knew what she was doing. 

“I look gorgeous,” I told Grace, lifting my hand to touch my cheek. I’d never seen me look like this before. “What foundation did you use?” 

“Laura Mercier. But you have to use primer too.”

“Oh, I use primer. Not every day, but I use primer. Although I didn’t know that lip primer was a thing.”

“Her husband’s going to hate you,” Grace crooned sotto voce. 

I smiled, “He’s going to be impressed that I look so amazing is what he’s going to be.”

The makeup artist looked over at me from where she was carefully applying foundation to Grace’s face. “You do, but you need to stop touching your face. Do you have makeup kit?”

“Do you mean in general? Because I have three, but I only brought one with me.”

“Tell Laura to carry a small makeup case. Do you have something with you that can fill in?”

“Uh yeah, I rummaged through my bag, pulling out my typical case.”

“I’ll give you some blotting paper. You need to carry concealer along with everything on your lips.”

“I have blotting papers,” I dumped out my bag and quickly threw in what she had told me to.

“You want to make sure that you have everything you need. Reapply your lipstick before the photographs. Do you have a mirror?”

I showed it to her, “It was my great grandmother’s. She carried it when she married my great grandfather, and she gave it to my grandfather so that my grandma could carry it when they got married. My mother carried it at her wedding. I’d say it’s good luck, but those are the only three brides who had it who stayed married.”

I looked at the mirror for a minute. Mark and Dr. Finnegan and I had a long discussion about the mirror. We’d spent close to two sessions talking about it. I’d always wanted to carry it, since I was a little girl. The fact that all of my aunts who had carried it gotten divorces spoke more to family dysfunction than anything else. 

Mark and I loved each other. The compact wasn’t cursed. I loved the way it looked. I used to pull it out of it’s hiding spot in my mother’s room when I was a little girl so that I could look at it. I took a deep breath, and then dropped the compact into my purse. 

Once Grace’s makeup was done, the makeup artist and the hairstylist left to go and help everyone else. I sat carefully on the bed; I didn’t want to muss my hair.

“I’m so glad those bitches are gone,” Grace said, face completely deadpan.

I snorted. “What is wrong with us? They were perfectly nice. Why are we such bitches?”

“Because,” she dropped to the bed next to me, putting an arm around my shoulder, “We’re awesome that way. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am starving. What do you want to eat?”

“Cheeseburger. And fries. I’m really hungry all of the sudden. Do you think we can unclip my veil without assistance?”

“Oh yeah. We’re also awesome that way,” Grace carefully moved my head, studying it from several angles. Then, she slipped my veil off.

“Let me throw on some jeans and a bra, and we can go get lunch. We still have like two hours before we’re doing any photographs. We have time for lunch.”

We raced to get lunch, laughing over cheeseburgers. When we got back to the room, I slipped on the lingerie that I’d bought for the day, and then Gracie helped me into my dress.

“I can do this myself you know?” I asked her.

“Hey! I’m your Maid of Honor. I help you get dressed.”

“Fine, but you’re not helping me pee. This dress is short enough that I don’t need assistance thank you very much.”

She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes as though very put upon. “Fine. But you should know that I was totally looking forward to it.”

Once my dress was on and Grace had re-affixed my veil, I pulled my shoes out. “Red. Sexy. Aren’t you jealous?”

“Whatever. Put ‘em on.”

Once I finished that, Grace slipped her dress on as well. “I’m a really good bride, you know that? I picked out an awesome dress, and we look adorable.” We looked at ourselves, arm in arm in the mirror.

“We do. Time to go meet up with this Laura chick everyone keeps raving about. I thought you guys were going to be like BFF or something.”

“And abandon you? Who would make fun of people with me?”

“Exactly. You keep me around for the bitter mockery,” Grace grabbed my purse, handing it to me. 

We crossed the hallway to the other room. Grace grabbed my arm before we went in, “You ready?”

I nodded, and we joined the melee. Luckily for me, Laura, found us about 10 minutes later, and I was being guided through my afternoon. It was kind of a whirlwind, and I was grateful to have someone steadying me through it. 

And anytime I got overwhelmed, Grace would make some totally inappropriate joke, and I could feel myself start to breathe again. She wasn’t quite as good as Mark, but she picked up on my moods pretty easily.

Things got much simpler once everyone else was transported to the pavilion. Grace and I were sitting in a small room, waiting for the carriage.

“I feel like everything’s going so fast,” I told her. “But slow too. Like a car crash.”

“Yeah, that’s normal. I think. At least, it happened with me. Oooh! Look! Ponies!” Grace stood up, and we walked out to get into the carriage.


	17. Marrying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first reading is Albert Einstein; the second reading is Charlotte Zolotow (from "Some Things that Go Together".

The ride seemed very quick. It was great. There was a slight breeze, and I was more focused on looking around and drinking in the experience. And then we got to the pavilion, and I had to get out.

As I stepped out of the carriage, holding the hand of the driver, I realized that I was in my last moments of not being married. I looked at Grace; she must have seen how pale I’d gotten.

“Just realized you’re about to spend the rest of your life with someone, didn’t you?” She said sympathetically.

“Uh huh,” I nodded, trying not to panic.

“You want to leave here?”

I shook my head. I loved Mark.

“Remember what you told me at my wedding?”

I shook my head no. I could barely remember my name at the moment.

“Alright then. You love Mark. He loves you. All you’re doing is getting a piece of paper so that everyone knows it. Not a big deal. You’re still going to be Mark and El after today. Just with a bunch of extra rights that other people don’t get. Feel appropriate shame.”

That did it. I let out a laugh, “Did I seriously say that to you?”

“Yes. And I laughed too. You told me you were adding some levity to the situation. Although, to be fair, I think you were also pointing out that I was spazzing about straight people problems and it might be good form to knock it off in front of my queer friends.”

I nodded, “Okay, I remember now. And yes, I was. And yes, I recognize the enormous privilege inherent in what I’m about to do.”

“You ready? Or should we feel some more upper-middle class white guilt? Because I’m in if that’s what we’re doing. And you just spent a ton of money on the wedding, so it’s totally appropriate.”

“Technically, Mark just spent a ton of money on the wedding. Because we’re progressive that way. Plus, I’m social worker poor. And Mark’s kind of my retirement plan now so we should probably just do this.” 

“Awwwww! Young love. Getting married so you don’t end up in a shitty state run nursing home,” as Grace mocked me, she leaned over to adjust my veil so it fell right and quickly flicked several errant curls. Reaching down, she tugged the hem of my dress on both sides, and then handed me the flowers she had laid on the seat of the carriage.

I smiled at her. “Thank you for being here and keeping me from being crazy pants today.”

“That’s my job, to prevent the wearing of the crazy pants. That and to be your enforcer. Which! I’m totally cracking skulls at your reception if necessary. And I will tackle a motherfucker if need be.”

I hugged her, “I love you.”

“Of course you do. If we were lesbians, we’d be getting married. Instead, we’re just going to be best friends and go shoe shopping and eat cupcakes. Just like always.”

I laughed again, “I’m ready now.”

“Good,” she walked over to the beginning of the path and stood poised. The violinist started, and Laura nodded for Grace to start. 

I watched as she walked away from me, and tried to take deep breaths. Then, taking my Dad’s arm, I looked at him, “Don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t.”

We began walking toward the altar. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to look. Shit! Was I supposed to be making eye contact and smiling at all of these people? I should have paid more attention during the rehearsal. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I looked at Mark. He caught my eye and smiled, and I relaxed, remembering the constant refrain during the wedding planning.

This was our wedding. We were going to do what made us feel happy and right. And right now, that meant keeping eye contact with Daddy and smiling. And fuck everyone else.

When we got to the altar, my Dad handed me over to Mark with a kiss on the cheek, and we stood in front of the officiant. 

“Friends, we have been invited here today to share with Mark and Eleanor a very important moment in their lives. In the time they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife. The first reading will be given by the bride’s brother.”

My brother walked toward the front of the pavilion. I kept thinking to myself that if he fucked this up, I was going to kill him. He stared straight ahead with a smile on his face. Nobody else would be able to tell, but he looked like he was about to stroke out from the stress. 

Apparently, my threat at dinner the night before had been helpful; he only made one joke. “Because of course, my sister had to pick the nerdiest reading she could find,” he began:

"Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

My sister went to her place. She was six months pregnant, and Jake had refused to let go of Mommy. So, with a two year old hiding behind her hip, she stood in front of everyone, and then she looked at me and smiled.

She opened her mouth and sang “Second Star to the Right,” and I blinked back tears. She smiled at me again, and then, holding Jake’s hand, she walked back to sit down.

Mark’s sister came forward.

"Pigeons with park   
Stars with dark   
Sand with sea   
and you with me

Hats with heads   
Pillows with beds   
Sky with blue   
and me with you."

Mark caught my eye as she read, and I smiled. We’d spent hours discussing what to have inscribed on the inside of our rings before we finally compromised on that reading. Inside my ring, in letters so small you could barely read them, it said, “Pigeons, Stars, Sand, You, Hats, Pillows, Sky, Me.” His ring held the other half of each line. We’d made it fit. Barely.

Then, the minister stepped in front of us again, and I tried to focus very hard on not crying and remember what I was supposed to say.

I had to start, “Where there has been cold, you have brought warmth; where my life was dark, you have brought light. Mark, I pledge before this assembled company to be your wife from this day forward. Let us make of our two lives, one life, and let us always honor and respect each other.” I felt my eyes welling tears, and I tried to will them back. Waterproof mascara or no, I didn’t want to cry.

Mark smiled at me, “Eleanor, you have filled my world with meaning. You have made me so happy and more fulfilled as a person. Thank you for taking me as I am; loving me, and welcoming me into your heart. I promise to always love you, respect you as an individual, and to be faithful to you forever. Today I choose you to be my partner, and commit myself to you for the rest of my life.”

Okay, I was done. The tears slid down my cheeks as the minister continued, “The wedding ring is a symbol of an inward and spiritual bond which unites two hearts in endless love. The bride’s ring please,” he held out his hand so that Lucas could give it to him. “Mark, you will place the ring on Eleanor’s finger. Eleanor, will you accept this ring as a symbol of your love for Mark?”

“Yes,” I managed to say, trying to focus on the ceremony and not all of the things that could go wrong.

“The groom’s ring please,” Lucas handed it over. “Eleanor, you will place the ring on Mark’s finger. Mark, will you accept the ring as a symbol of your love for Eleanor?”

Mark smiled at me, “Yes.”

“Rings are circles without end, and so should your love be forever without end. Now, by the power vested in me by the state of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Mark pulled me forward and kissed me. It felt different for some reason. Possibly because my parents were watching. When we stopped, the minister gestured for us to turn around.

I wasn’t paying attention, too focused on the idea that we were married, as the minister presented us to the people waiting. Then, we were walking back out. 

When we got back into the carriage, I sagged against Daddy for a moment. He hugged me. “We’re married,” he said, his eyes sparkling. He carefully wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

“We’re married,” I agreed.

“You doing okay?” he checked. He was smiling at me, but I could see worry in his eyes.

I nodded, “Uh huh,” I said. “It’s just a party. We’re going to go take pictures, and then we have the reception. It’s 4:00 now; I just have to make it to like 11:00.”

The carriage driver kindly pretended that he wasn’t listening to us; he drove us off to the small building that we were supposed to meet the photographer in, and then he left us there. 

Laura was behind us with Grace and Lucas, maybe 5 minutes later, and we only had maybe 2 minutes after they had arrived before our parents and siblings were upon us.

Jake came toddling over to me, oozing. “Sass,” I said to my sister, “You know I love your kid, but if he goos me up in this dress, I won’t be held responsible for my reaction.”

My brother-in-law snagged my nephew, “Come here Buddy. Let’s go look at the water,” I shot him a grateful look as he took my adorable nephew over to the windows. 

I love him, I do. But I was wearing a dress that was the equivalent of half a month’s paycheck. I didn’t want toddler juice on it.

Meg, the photographer, came in, and we did the group shots pretty quickly. The pictures with family were surprisingly easy, and I even got to take a picture with my nephew (after he had been thoroughly wiped down) and my sister. Grace and Lucas hung out for a while after that getting more pictures done, and then it was just us with Meg.

“Do you want mostly indoor or mostly outdoor?” she asked us.

“No more choices,” I moaned, hiding my face against Daddy’s shoulder.

“Outdoor,” he told her, swatting me with a look that anybody else would interpret as fooling around. Apparently, even though everyone else would treat me like a princess on my wedding day, Daddy wanted to make sure that I realized that I was not above the normal rules.

I quickly pulled it together, looking at Meg and smiling, “Sorry. The whole wedding thing is just a little overwhelming. And every time I turn around, there’s another decision.” I didn’t want our first night as a married couple to include a spanking. Even if the rooms were pretty well sound-proofed.

She laughed, “I get it. Why don’t we get a few shots in here, and then I’ve got some ideas for outside. Laura mentioned that you wanted most of the photographs to informal?”

I nodded.

“Anything that you especially want to make sure that I get?”

I smiled, making eye contact with Daddy, “My dance with my Dad. My mother mentioned she wanted a shot of that. And obviously our first dance. Mostly, I want us to not realize we’re being photographed so that they’re more natural looking. Oh, and there’s one more photograph with the Matron of Honor that I need to get. But we need swings.”

Daddy looked at me quizzically.

“We have this picture of us from when we’re in kindergarten, the first day? We’re sitting on the swing set next to each other, and we’re hugging and laughing. We did the same picture at her wedding last year. It was a lot harder to find a swing set in Michigan in the winter though; we had to plan ahead.”

“Sounds good. Let’s finish these so you can get to your reception.”

Meg quickly hurried us through photographs indoors, and then we got more pictures taken everywhere. Finally, Laura went and snagged Grace and hurried us to a small playground near where we’d held the ceremony. 

“You both know what you’re doing?” she asked us.

“Yup. No need for you to pose us; just tell us if we look weird or we’re getting like crazy wrinkles or double chins so we can shift.” Grace and I climbed onto the swings. “You have to come to me this time Grace. These heels were not meant for beach wear.”

Grace snorted at me, “You realize you have an excuse like every time we take this picture, right?”

“I had a broken arm,” I protested, laughing.

“I had a broken arm,” she whined, pushing my swing so it went sideways, “You’re taller than I am. It was your idea. I’m El, my life is hard.”

“Shut up,” I managed to choke out through laughter. “You’re kind of a bitch, you know that right?”

“It’s why you love me,” she grabbed my swing as it came back toward her and gripped me around the waist. “And you had to come to me,” she said smugly, as I wrapped my arms around her.

Meg caught us laughing, Grace’s head flung back as she cackled, and my face down as I tried to not let go even as I snorted.

“Let’s get a few more,” Meg said.

“Children,” Mark’s voice broke through our hysterical laughter, “Focus.” He smiled at me.

“Shhh,” I told her, “You’re still getting us into trouble.”

We went back and forth for a while. Every time I managed to get control of myself, Grace set me off, and I did the same to her. Finally, Mark interrupted. “You guys want a drink?”

“Drink?” Grace looked up like a golden retriever who had been offered a walk.

“Yes. Alcohol. But we need to get through these pictures first.”

“Shut up,” she smacked me. “I need some booze.”

We pulled it together long enough to get the shot, and then, when I was sure we were done, I held onto Grace for a minute. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey...” I said, not giving her a chance to respond the first several times.

“Whaaaaaaat? I was promised hooch,” she complained, struggling to break free.

“You can’t hit the bride,” with that, I pushed her swing as far away from me as I could, and then managed to stumble jump off of my own before she came swinging back toward me. I lost my shoes, but Daddy caught me before I face-planted in the sand. 

“You both ought to get spanked; you’re little brats. Were you this bad when you were kids?” he asked me.

Grace shoved my shoes at me, interrupting us, “Oh, I was a perfect angel; El, on the other hand, was a monster. Seriously! They wouldn’t even let her stay in the classroom; they kept sending her to the library.”

“Jerk,” I said, shoving her again, “You know that’s because I was so far ahead of you. I couldn’t help being a baby genius.”

“Sure, that’s what it was,” she smiled patronizingly at me.

“Okay, we’re not going to tackle each other on the sand.” Daddy lifted me up and placed me onto the sidewalk. “You, put your shoes on,” he ordered. Then turning toward Grace, he pointed at her, “No!” 

“What? I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Whatever you’re planning. Just no. I know you two. Tonight’s going to be a lot less fun if it includes a trip to the Emergency Room because the two of you get the giggles. I will separate you if I have to.”

“Okay, okay,” Grace held her hands up in a placating gesture, “But Mark, quick questions.”

Daddy nodded at her, waiting. I snorted, trying to keep myself under control. Rookie mistake.

“Can I tackle her in the reception? Because there isn’t sand there.”

That was it. We were off again. I actually ended up on my knees because I was laughing so hard.

“You’re stuck with me now,” I gasped out a reminder through laughter.

“And we’re a package deal,” Grace sputtered, collapsing next to me.

Mark stood over us, arms crossed, “Gracie, didn’t you want to drink?” he asked.

Grace sat up straight and stopped laughing cold. Even though it wasn’t the first time I’d seen her do it, it’s still damn eerie. “Alcohol?” she asked. “Shut up,” she smacked me. “I’ve been promised booze.”

I sat up straight and nodded solemnly, “We’d like a drink now please.”

Mark sighed and hauled us both to our feet. I pulled my heels on again, and we wandered over to the reception.


	18. Partying

It was loud. And crowded. I wasn’t sure how it could be so crowded when we only had like 75 people there.

Lucas stood up to give his toast. It was good. He had clearly spent a lot of time on it. And then Grace stood up. And in her typical Grace way, she began.

“I was here first,” she said. I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. When I looked over, Daddy had joined me.

“That’s right, laugh all you want,” she said pointedly, looking at me, “But I was here first. I was with El, when we decided that skating on the floor of her parents’ kitchen would be possible if we just buttered our socks. I was there when I convinced her it would be okay just this once to try to use the stove without adult supervision. And I was there, when she told me that she had met the man she’d been dreaming about since she was four years old and she watched Cinderella for the first time. Which, for the record, I was also there for. Through every brilliant plan, hilarious caper, and god-awful disaster, including at least two memorable fires, I’ve been with El. And it has been an incredible honor and privilege, to be with her today and help her start on this new and beautiful chapter of her life with you. So, to El and Mark, may you make each other as happy every day, as El was the day she told me about you.”

Grace slammed her champagne, and then they had us cut the cake. After that, people sat down to eat.

Mark watched as I bolted down my meal. “Starving,” I said in explanation.

He nodded, “As long as you eat.” He watched for a minute, “Although not choking yourself would also be good.”

I finished my food, and then we had to mingle. It was stressful. I hadn’t realized how much work it was going to be, talking to everyone and being so very on. I wanted 10 minutes away with Daddy, and I didn’t see how we were going to accomplish that.

I felt like my face was going to crack from all of the smiling, and I grabbed champagne and managed to swallow the entire glass in one gulp. There, I smiled as I put it down, that was better.

I felt Mark’s hand close over my wrist, and I turned to him. I realized that it wasn’t really Mark at the moment so much as Daddy, as he leaned in closer, “Come on,” he murmured in my ear.

“We can’t,” I told him, even as I let him lead me from the reception. “We’re supposed to be the bride and groom right now.”

“Ten minutes. I told Grace to cover for us,” he explained, as he led me away from everyone and outside. I took a deep breath. The night air was cool, and I instantly felt relief as the noise of the party died down.

Daddy kept walking, practically dragging me over to the beach.

“We shouldn’t be on the beach right now,” I said. “There are sand fleas. We’ll end up with bites.”

“Kick off your shoes,” he said, kneeling to grab my discarded pumps. I sighed as my feet hit the ground. The shoes were pretty comfortable, but it felt good to have them off.

I gave a little yelp of surprise as Daddy swooped me up like he was going to carry me over the threshold, and walked out to the swing.

“Come here,” he said, sitting down with me still on his lap. “You’re okay?”

“Uh huh,” I leaned against him, relaxed. I felt safer than I had since we’d left our hotel room for the rehearsal dinner the night before. “I love you.”

“That’s good because you’re stuck with me now,” he said dryly. I laughed.

“You’re stuck with me too,” I reminded him. “Forever.”

“All in all, it was a pretty good day, don’t you think?”

“We haven’t really finished the reception yet. Everyone could get food poisoning. Someone could get falling down drunk,” I began cataloguing the disasters that we could see before the night was through.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing my hands and kissing them, “We’re married now. I don’t care if the zombie apocalypse comes. It was a pretty good day.”

“We should get back. Also, I don’t think I can outrun zombies in these shoes,” I told him.

“We will. In a minute. We’re just going to rock for a little bit. And I packed you sneakers too.”

I knew I should protest and insist that we needed to go back and be appropriate hosts, but I felt so good curled on his lap. “Five minutes,” I warned him. “We can’t avoid the entire reception.”

“Okay,” he said, swinging us slightly. We lapsed into silence, both of us just thinking. 

Five minutes went too soon, and then Mark was standing up, still carrying me, and walked us over to the sidewalk. I sighed as I began slipping on my shoes.

“It’s customary for the Bride and Groom to duck out early,” he pointed out, holding my hand so that I could steady myself.

“It’s allowed,” I told him, “But we just spent a ton of money on a party. I kind of think we should reap the benefit.”

He gave me a look, “We spent money on the hotel room too,” he pointed out.

“We did. But it’s a giant party where everyone treats me like a Princess. Let me have one,” I explained.

He rolled his eyes at this, “Fine. It’s your special day and all that. But, you’ve had two glass of champagne, right?”

I nodded.

“Then you can have two more drinks El, but no more. I don’t need you getting sick on me from a mix of anti-depressants and alcohol. Got me?”

“It’s my wedding,” I whined.

“It is, and I’m sure that Shirley Temples can be ordered from the bar just as easy as Shirley Temple Blacks.”

I made a face at him, and then reached into my pocket to grab my lipstick. “Let me reapply,” I said, quickly smoothing on another layer. “How do I look?” I puckered my lips at him.

“Gorgeous. And how many drinks are you going to have tonight?”

“Only two more alcoholic beverages,” I recited.

“Thank you,” he smiled at me and gave me one last kiss, “Ready to go be Mark and El for a little while longer?”

I nodded, and taking his hand, we began making our way back to the reception. “Did you realy butter your socks?” he asked.

“Uh huh. It totally would have worked too if we hadn’t gotten caught turning the thermostat up.”

He laughed as we re-entered the reception.

We had surprisingly good timing. It was apparently time to serve cake. 

We sat back down, “I love cake,” I told Mark, as I ate my slice.

“I know,” he smiling as he slid his plate in front of me.

“That’s real love you know,” I told him, taking another bite, “Sharing cake. You should keep that in mind. Because I’m pretty sure your cake is now legally mine as well.”

After cake there was dancing. I got through the dance with my Dad. It was a weird and awkward tradition; I knew my mom was into it, but I was dancing with my father after he handed me over to someone else. The whole thing seemed strange to me.

As I was mulling that over, Mark grabbed me, and we danced. Leaning into him, I took a deep breath. “I love you,” I told him.

“I love you too,” he smiled at me, and I felt completely perfect in that moment. It was like everyone else in the room faded away. I wasn’t worried about falling or screwing anything up. We were the only two people in the room. 

I blocked everyone else out, listening to the lyrics of Songbird and feeling Daddy’s arms around me. When the song was over, I reluctantly stepped away.

The rest of the reception was a blur. Mark had preemptively bribed the DJ to only play the songs on our approved list, which led to an irate relative coming up to me asking what my problem was with the Black Eyed Peas.

Mark, who had been mingling with guests, was at my side before the first sentence was out of the angry lady’s mouth. “Actually, I’m the one who hates the Black Eyed Peas. And I figured that there is plenty of music that we could all enjoy instead.” Smiling, he kept his arm around my waist and gently steered me away.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, “Apparently your ability to see trouble extends beyond me,” I said.

“I’m magical that way. You sure you want to stay the entire time?”

“Yes. We should dance.”

He stayed at my side the rest of the evening, getting me drinks and running interference. By the end of the night, I was dead on my feet, and I was happy to be leaving.


	19. Honeymooning

After a few final good byes, we began making our way to our room.

“Where are we going?” I asked him. Daddy had a grip on my hand, and he was leading me away from the wing of our hotel that had our room.

“To our room Baby,” he smiled at me, goofy.

“Our room is over there,” I pointed at the hotel room that we had checked into the day before.

“Our old room is over there. Our new room is in here.” We had made it to an elevator, and Daddy shooed me on. “You want to press the button?” he asked.

“What floor?” I yawned.

“9. I know someone who is ready for bed.” he told me.

“Not me,” I replied, pressing the button. 

When we got the 9th floor, Daddy swooped me up. I laughed, “What are you doing?”

“I have to carry you over the threshold.” He carried from the elevator and down the hallway, stopping at a door. Swiping his keycard, he opened the door and carried me to the bed, where he dumped me.

I had stopped laughing when we entered the room, looking around with wide eyes. Daddy collapsed next to me on the bed, laying on his back. “Do you like it?” he asked me, smiling.

I wiggled so that I was laying against Daddy, facing him. “It’s beautiful,” I said, honestly. I yawned again. “I didn’t know they had a honeymoon suite.”

“They don’t advertise it. I had to call around, but I figured you needed a princess room.”

I sat back up, looking around the room again. It was large, with a very comfortable king size bed. There was a beautiful chaise lounge next to french doors that opened onto a balcony. I could see the lagoon from our room.

“It’s beautiful,” I said again.

He smiled at me. “I know a little girl who needs to get some sleep,” he told me.

I shook my head no, “I want to stay up.”

“You’re going to be tired tomorrow Baby. I thought you wanted to go to the parks.”

“I do. Just a little bit longer? We’re never getting married again; I want to just have today a little bit longer.” I begged.

“Tell you what,” Daddy propped himself onto his elbow. “You can stay up, but you’re going to take a bath then.”

“Not my hair though Daddy. Don’t wash it,” I said.

“Why not?” Daddy struggled up from the bed and leaned over to pick me up again. This time, he settled me onto his hip. It felt more natural than it had being carried over the threshold. 

“Because I look beautiful,” I touched my curls, looking at myself in the mirror.

“We need to brush them out Sweetheart. Your hair is going to be a mess tomorrow if we don’t. Besides, we can always curl it again.” Daddy settled me onto the vanity, reaching down to tug off my heels and reaching behind me to unclasp my necklace. 

“You know how to curl hair?” I looked at him skeptically.

“I learned how to do a lot of stuff Baby. I think I can handle a curling iron.” he was busy, unpinning my veil. 

“No curling iron Daddy. They’re bad for your hair. Plus I’m kind of afraid of them. Rag curls.”

Turning, he began filling up the (absolutely beautiful and gigantic) tub. “Why are you afraid of curling irons?”

“They’re hot Daddy. It hurts when they burn you.”

While he was facing away from me, I stood up and unzipped my dress, letting it fall to the ground and then stepping out. “Daddy? Do you want to take a bath with me?”

Daddy turned around, and made a funny little breathy noise. I was standing in front of him in my bra and panties, and it looked like I’d had the effect I’d been hoping for. 

“Just this once,” he told me, ripping off his clothes. “Pick up your dress,” he added.

I obediently picked up my dress, folding it neatly and putting it on the vanity. Then, turning away from him, I unclasped my bra and pulled it off. I felt Daddy pulling my panties off, and then he picked me up and settled me into the bathtub. Where he joined me.

I relaxed against Daddy’s chest, “I love you,” I told him, tilting my head so that I could kiss him.

“I love you too,” he replied. We lay in silence for a while, and I could feel myself drowsing. 

Daddy’s hands went up to my hair. It had gotten partially wet, and the ends were hanging. “I think we can wash this now,” he told me.

I nodded, sitting up and facing Daddy. He gently tilted my head back so that he could get my hair wet. He washed and conditioned my hair. The shampoo smelled like lavender and vanilla, and I could feel my eyes getting heavy. When he was done, he calmly began combing through my hair, trying to work the knots out.

“Ouch,” I protested, pulling away. “That hurts.”

“Hold still Princess,” he grabbed conditioner and smoothed it back through my hair. “Let’s try this.” The comb went through much more easily now, and I relaxed into his touch. 

“I think it’s time for bed,” Dad said; his voice was very quiet.

I nodded sleepily, and he made quick work of washing me gently with the honey toffee soap that he liked the scent of. I curled against him again, tired. “Come on Baby, I need you to stand up and get out so that I can,” he told me.

I shook my head no, whining wordlessly. “Comfortable.”

“I know Princess,” he gently pushed and pulled at me until I was up. Standing next to me, he began rubbing me dry with a fluffy towel. I sagged against his body, exhausted. 

“I need you to stay awake long enough to brush your teeth.” he lifted me up onto the vanity, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. “Open,” he instructed, and brushed my teeth.

“Tired Daddy,” I mumbled, leaning against him.

“I know Baby. Come on,” he carried me into the next room and pulled back the sheets. 

“No pajamas?” I asked, confused.

“Not tonight Sweetheart,” he pulled the covers up to my chin, and I curled up onto my side, my thumb in my mouth. 

“Stella,” I said.

I felt him slipping her into my arms, and then I slept.

I woke up to Daddy kissing me. “Morning Sunshine,” he said. Daddy was already dressed in jeans and a polo; he must have been awake for a while.

I yawned and stretched, smiling at him. “We’re married.”

“We are. And is my wife hungry?”

I yawned again, and nodded. 

“That’s good. I ordered room service.” As he was telling me, I heard a knock at the door. “Stay here,” he ordered me.

I sat myself up, pulling the sheet to cover my body. Daddy returned quickly, pushing a little cart with covered plates.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Daddy settled a plate in front of me, and then pulled off the cover.

I didn’t answer, attacking my waffles. “I’m starving,” I finally told him, my mouth full. “Why is it everything tastes better when it’s shaped like Mickey Mouse?”

“It does?” he asked, wiping a smudge of syrup off of my cheek. 

“Uh huh. Wait till you try the Mickey Mouse ice cream Daddy. It’s not vacation till we have one.”

“Really?” he asked, skeptical as always when I tried to explain why sugar was a necessity. “Eat your bacon too. And drink your juice.”

I took a bite of bacon, “Uh huh. You can ask at the front desk Daddy. They’ll back me up.”

“Juice Baby,” Daddy leaned off of the bed to grab his bag. He pulled out pill bottles and handed me my morning medicine. 

I made a face, but swallowed the pills without any real complaint. “Can we go to Magic Kingdom today Daddy?”

“Is that what you want to do?” he asked me.

I nodded quickly. “We need to ride the carousel. And the Dumbo ride. And the Carousel of Progress.”

“Seriously? The Carousel of Progress?”

“It’s important Daddy. Plus, it’s so dated that it’s hilarious.”

“Finish your breakfast so we can go.” 

“And It’s a Small World,” I quickly ate everything else, drinking the juice as instructed. “Now?” I asked him.

“I think you need clothes first,” Daddy reached into my suitcase and pulled out a cotton skirt and a tee shirt. 

I stood still, letting Daddy dress me. I touched the skirt with one hand. Daddy must have bought it for me; I’d never seen it before. 

“Do you like it?” Daddy looked a little apprehensive.

“Uh huh,” I nodded. I did too. It was flowered, blues and pinks and purples. With the pale pink tee shirt, I looked appropriately adult but still felt little. “My ears too,” I told him. 

“Sit down,” he instructed, pulling out my sneakers and socks.

“I want sandals,” I said, even as I was sitting down.

“I want you to be able to walk. Sneakers today Baby.”

I stuck my feet out, letting him slip on the white socks and sneakers. “Now?” I asked

“Teeth, hair, and face. And you need sunscreen.”

Daddy finally let me leave the room, after applying sunscreen to every inch of uncovered skin (and quite a bite of covered skin), and brushing and braiding my hair. He slipped my Minnie bride ears on. 

“You have your phone?” he asked me.

“Uh huh.”

“And your room key?”

“Yes Daddy. Let’s go,” I tugged insistently on his hand.

“Hold your horses Baby,” he told me, pulling me over so he could sit on the bed and look me in the eyes. “What do you do if you can’t find me?”

“Call your cell phone.”

“Good girl,” he praised. “What if I don’t answer?”

“Call three times, don’t move from where I am. If you still don’t answer, then I need to meet you in front of the teacups. We should ride the teacups too Daddy.”

“We can. And what aren’t you going to do?”

“Wander off. I should see you at all times unless I get permission to go someplace.”

“And?”

“And saying that I’m going someplace isn’t the same as permission. I gotta ask you and wait till you answer.”

“That’s right. I want you holding my hand, understood? The last thing we need is for you to get lost. It will not be a fun day if you wander away Baby.”

I nodded. Daddy had been very clear. Disney World was supposed to be fun, but that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t get spanked if I broke the rules. “Now Daddy?”

“Okay, okay. You have money too? You need to make sure you’re drinking water. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Yes Daddy,” I said, pulling him toward the door. “You’re taking forever.”

He gave me a quick hug, “Behave Baby,” he warned me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “I don’t want to start our Honeymoon with a spanking.”

I nodded again, and then we went to the park.


	20. Testing

As we wandered through The Magic Kingdom, I kept hold of Daddy’s hand tightly. We managed to make our way through most of the park. We just had Tomorrowland left.

“I think it’s time to go back to the hotel,” Daddy told me.

“No, I want to go ride more rides,” I said, tugging insistently.

Daddy kept a tight grip on my hand, moving us both into a small doorway, “Hotel. You haven’t gotten enough sleep three nights in a row. We’re here for ten days; we can come back to the park later or we can relax and swim for the rest of the day. But we are going back to the hotel.”

I tried to keep my voice low, “I want to finish here first,” I told him.

“I understand that. But I said?”

“That’s not fair,” I whined.

“El,” Daddy’s head had dipped so his voice was right next to my ear, “We’re going back to the hotel. Do you want to get a spanking when we go back there? Because if you don’t stop arguing with me, you’re getting a spanking and a time out. If you want to hold my hand and stop whining like a big girl, then we can do what you want once we get back there.”

I bit my lip. I really didn’t want to go back, but I knew he’d win anyway. “I want to get ice cream.”

“We can get ice cream, but you have to eat lunch.”

I knew it was his best offer, so I grudgingly nodded, and we made our way back to the hotel. After we ate lunch and I had my sundae, Daddy hurried me back to the room. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon in bed. Daddy even made me nap for a while.

When I woke up, he was getting dressed, “Do you want to get some dinner?” he asked me.

I nodded, sleepily rubbing my eyes.

“That’s good. We have reservations.”

I sat up, “No we don’t.”

“Yes we do,” he said, sitting on the bed next to me. “I made reservations.”

I bounced a little, “Where?”

“Get dressed and I’ll show you,” he instructed, tossing me my skirt and panties. 

I hurried through getting dressed and then made myself up. After brushing my hair quickly, I turned to look at Daddy.

“Where?”

“Come on,” he pulled me out of the room and into the hallway. He had called us a cab, and I couldn’t sit still, wiggling in anticipation.

When we pulled up in front of another hotel, I looked at him, “Where are we going?”

“There’s supposed to be an amazing restaurant on the top floor. We can either watch the fireworks from there, or we can take the monorail to Epcot afterward.”

I smiled, walking into the hotel with Daddy, my head leaned on his shoulder. “Are we drinking? I asked quietly.

“Not tonight Baby,” he responded, making sure that his voice was low enough nobody could hear.

“I really want a cocktail,” I tried.

His reply was simple, “No. Not tonight. You know what the doctor said about mixing alcohol with your pills.”

I sighed, scuffing the toe of my shoe against the carpeting. “I know.”

“I hear they have creme brulee though. Hazelnut creme brulee. And an entire cheese menu,” he smiled at me.

“Acceptable alternative,” I responded. “Can we go look in the candy shop?”

“Not right now, we’ll miss our reservations.”

Dinner went well. Daddy really didn’t let me drink, which was annoying, but he did buy me Shirley Temples. It seemed like maybe sugar wasn’t going to be quite as closely monitored during the vacation. 

“I’m stuffed,” I told him, finally putting down my spoon after dessert.

“I’d believe it. You’re eating like you have a hollow leg. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” I smiled. “Everything tastes good though; I want to eat.”

“Are we staying here for fireworks, or do you want to see them in Epcot.”

“In Epcot. Can we stop in the candy store?”

He looked at me, “You just said you’re stuffed.”

“Pleeeeeease,” I said, smiling.

“Fine, but you’re not eating it tonight.”

We made our way down to the store, and clearly Daddy wasn’t planning on monitoring my sugar intake. We got tons of candy, and then we took the monorail to Epcot.

When we got to Epcot, there was about twenty minutes until the fireworks started. Daddy kept a hold of my hand as we headed toward the back of the park.

“I want to watch from up here,” I said, planting my feet.

“No Princess,” he told me patiently. “The park closes after this; we need to be in the back so we can just walk to our room.”

“I don’t want to.”

He smiled at me, “I didn’t ask that. Come on,” he tugged my hand, and we made it to the back, where we stood against the fence. Daddy’s arms were around me, and I leaned back into him.

When the fireworks started, I jumped. I hadn’t seen fireworks in forever; I’d forgotten how loud they were.

Daddy hugged me, “You okay?” His voice was a worried rumble in my ear.

I nodded, “Just startled me,” I smiled bravely, trying to keep from tensing.

Finally, Daddy moved me away from the fence and toward a bench about 10 feet away. Sitting down, he pulled me into his lap.

“Not here,” I whispered, struggling.

“Shhh. No one is even paying attention to us. And even if they do, they’ll just assume we’re newlyweds. Which we are. Just relax.”

I tried to, but between the fireworks and all of the people, I was having a hard time. Finally, Daddy helped me to my feet.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he suggested.

“No,” I told him, “I want to see the fireworks.”

Daddy didn’t respond, simply gripping my hand and moving toward the gate. I didn’t want to make a scene, so I waited until we were outside the park and pretty much alone before we started.

“Is this what the whole vacation is going to be like?” I asked him, my hands going to my hips.

“You mean me making sure you’re okay?” he asked, continuing without waiting for an answer, “Then no. This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like. Now come on,” He grabbed my hand and began walking.

I tried to stop, but he’s a lot stronger than I am. “I don’t want to go back yet. We were watching fireworks,” I told him.

“El, right now, the best thing you could do would be come with me without an argument. Otherwise, I might decide we need to have a conversation about you fibbing to me about the fireworks scaring you.”

“They didn’t,” I protested.

“El,” his voice was heavy with disappointment.

“I’m fine. They’re just fireworks.”

“Baby, we’re going back to the hotel. It’s okay; they’re loud and there are a ton of people around right now.”

I made a disgruntled noise, but I stopped abruptly when he gave me a look, “I think maybe you need to spend our walk thinking Princess.”

He wouldn’t talk anymore, and we walked to our room in silence. When we got there, he ushered me through the door first. I made a move to throw myself face down on the bed. I wanted him to understand that the injustices I had suffered could not be borne.

I was almost there, when I felt his hand grip my upper arm. His other hand quickly followed, smacking my bottom every step to the unoccupied corner in the room.

“You can stand there until I tell you to come out,” he informed me.

I crossed my arms in front of myself, glaring at the wall. This was not fair. I sighed heavily to express this opinion.

When that didn’t get a response, I sighed again. And again. And again. Until finally, Daddy interrupted me. 

His voice was quiet, but he did not sound like he was playing around, “Time out doesn’t start until you’re standing up straight with your arms at your side. And if I hear one more sound out of that corner Eleanor, I’m going to paddle your naughty bottom, and then, you can go right back and see if you remember what kind of behavior I expect in the corner.”

I stood up straight at that, my hands in fists at my sides. This sucked. I hated time out. And usually, Daddy sent me there to think; I completely controlled when I was allowed out. Once I was willing to discuss something or apologize, I didn’t have to stand around doing nothing anymore.

I don’t know how long time out lasted; it always seemed like I was there longer than I was. By the time Daddy called me over, I was fighting back tears.

“Come here Princess,” he said gently.

I walked over to where he was seated on the bed, my arms wrapped protectively around my middle and my eyes firmly trained on the ground.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” he asked me.

I shrugged.

“El, I’m waiting for an actual answer here Baby.”

“But I don’t know,” I looked up, making eye contact. My foot was itching to stomp on the ground.

“Eleanor, there has been an awful lot of back talk and attitude coming from you today. I’m not fighting with this our entire vacation. I want an explanation. Now please young lady.”

“Daddy, I really don’t know,” my voice was getting higher pitched; I was really frustrated.

“Fine then. It’s time for your bath,” Daddy made quick work of stripping my clothing off of me. Once he’d gotten me undressed, he sat me on the bed and pulled off my shoes and socks. “Bathroom, now,” he told me, a sharp smack to my butt getting me moving. 

I tried to start the bathtub, but all that got me was another swat, “I didn’t ask for any help young lady. You can stay right there,” he gestured toward the counter. “You are acting like a very naughty very little girl, and I don’t need any help from naughty babies who don’t know how to behave thank you.”

I sniffled at that, going to stand next to the counter. “You’re just being bossy,” I managed to get out.

Daddy turned from where he was kneeling next to the bathtub. “Excuse me?” his tone should have warned me off, but I continued.

“You’re being bossy. I was fine. We didn’t need to come back to the hotel. This afternoon or just now.”

“You absolutely were not fine Eleanor,” Daddy stood up, and his hands went up on his hips as he lectured me, “You were completely overstimulated this afternoon, not to mention exhausted, and you needed a nap and some time away from people. And as for just now, I would strongly recommend that you not keep telling me that the fireworks weren’t bothering you. Because we both know exactly what happens to little girls who tell naughty lies.”

I finally gave in, lightly stomping my foot, “I was fine,” I told him.

The bathroom was beautiful, far bigger than most hotel bathrooms, but it still only took him about two steps to get to my side. Settling himself down on the edge of the tub, he pulled me across his lap and began smacking my bottom.

“I don’t know,” he said, spanking me, “What has gotten into you. I do know that you need to stop with the naughty behavior or we’re going to be doing this a lot more. Understood?”

I had covered my mouth as he spanked me, trying to muffle the sounds of yelping. When he finished the mini-lecture and abruptly stood me back up, I stared at him. It was never that simple. I’d gotten worse spankings for forgetting to put my toys away than he had just given me for being deliberately rude and defiant.

“Now,” he asked, “Do you think you can control yourself, or do you need me to keep going?”

“Sorry Daddy,” I responded, looking down. I didn’t want him to spank me anymore. If he was going to let me off easy, I was not going to complain about that.

“That’s better. Now, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

I shook my head no, “I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired,” I suggested. I focused on not cringing as I said it. Daddy was almost always willing to chalk bad behavior up to lack of sleep, and he was happy to make me go to bed earlier and take more naps. Which sucked, but was infinitely preferable to getting spanked. Especially in a hotel where other people might hear.

“Alright,” Daddy didn’t sound convinced. “I guess you need to take a bath and get to bed then. In,” he pointed to the tub.

I did as he asked, climbing into my bath and holding still as he shampooed my hair. I remained silent, not trusting myself to talk without getting into trouble.

Once Daddy had washed me, he helped me back out and dried me off. After dressing me, he pulled down the blanket and pointed again, “In please.”

I climbed under the covers, holding my arms out for Stella. I snuggled with her , and Daddy disappeared into the bathroom for a minute. When he came back, he was carrying my bottle with water in it. After settling himself on the bed, he handed it to me.

“I’m not thirsty,” I said quietly.

Daddy brushed hair off of my face, looking at me for a long minute. “Okay,” he said finally, standing back up and readying himself for bed. 

Daddy got back into the bed next to me, “El, are you sure nothing’s wrong?” he asked me.

“Everything’s fine Daddy. Can we start our new story tonight?” I asked him.

“No. No Sweetheart, we can’t. You said that you were tired, and I want you to get the rest you need.”

I pouted at that, “But we always read,” I protested. 

“Not tonight Baby,” Daddy pulled me tightly against him. I wanted to wiggle free, but that never worked.

I focused on my breathing, slow and deep. And although I had been lying when I said that I was tired earlier, I soon found myself asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in a bad mood. If possible, I was in a worse mood than the day before.

“Rise and shine Princess,” Daddy told me, pulling my covers off. “We have to go get breakfast.”

“No,” I grumbled, curling up away from him.

“I know Baby, you’re sleepy, but it’s time to get up,” Daddy tickled my tummy a little as he tried to get me to sit up.

“Stop,” I shrieked, batting his hands away. “Go away.”

“Eleanor Rose,” Daddy’s voice was shocked. “What is the problem young lady?”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone,” I told him.

“I will not leave you alone. Do you not feel good?” He tried to rest his hand on my forehead, but I swatted it away.

All that accomplished was a smack to my uncovered legs, “You hold still and let me check for a fever,” he admonished. 

I held still, pout firmly on my face.

“No fever. So, are you sick?”

I shook my head no.

“Just tired?” his voice was sympathetic, “It’s been a lot of excitement.”

I nodded at that. It was a better explanation than, “I’m just irritable because I want to be.” Or the explanation that was likely closer to the truth, “I’m not quite sure where the line is right now because normally you’re on top of this stuff and now it’s like you’ve been abducted and replaced by a way too easy going Daddy and I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs if you don’t start acting normal.”

“Baby, if you go back to sleep, we’re going to miss breakfast. Don’t you want to go get french toast? You told me it’s delicious.” Daddy’s voice had taken on this cajoling note.

It’s not like Daddy doesn’t do this. He doesn’t always spank; sometimes he teases me into a better mood or is calm and gentle until I act right because it’s hard to keep yelling at someone who doesn’t yell back. But I didn’t like this; it just didn’t feel right. 

I shoved my head under the pillow. It’s not like I could say that to him. “Please stop being so nice. I’m panicking because we just did something huge, and I need you to act like normal because otherwise I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.” And it’s not like I really wanted a spanking.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled my head out from under the pillow, “Banana french toast Daddy,” I corrected. “It’s more like a doughnut. A delicious, deep fried, rolled in cinnamon and sugar and stuffed with banana type doughnut. And we have to split it because I’m pretty sure I’ll end up in a diabetic coma if I try to eat it by myself.”

Daddy smiled at me, “There’s my girl. You ready to go get your sugar then?”

I nodded, climbing out of bed and wandering to the suitcase. As I stood over it, I almost stopped. I wasn’t supposed to go through the clothes.

When Daddy didn’t say anything, I dug through everything and picked out a short sleeved dress to wear. After throwing that on along with my flip flops, I quickly got myself ready to go.

“Ready,” I said. As I stood in front of him, I waited for the order to change into sneakers. 

“You look beautiful,” he told me, kissing my cheek. “I’m starving.”

I held his hand part of the way to the restaurant, but I finally dropped it, stepping slightly away.

“Any thoughts on what you want to do today Baby?” he asked me, smiling as we stood waiting for a table.

“Magic Kingdom again. We can probably finish what we didn’t see yesterday and still have time to hit up Animal Kingdom this afternoon.”

“Okay,” he looked at me for a minute, “Something wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head no, “I’m fine. I’m going to go look over there,” I pointed at the lobby. Without waiting for a response, I walked away.

Wandering off was an easy way to get attention. It drove Daddy nuts that I couldn’t stay with him when we were in public, and I think it made him nervous because I was often lost in my own world. 

I expected to feel his hand grabbing my shoulder or arm, and then being quickly towed back to wherever he wanted me to be, with a short and quiet reminder that little girls asked for permission and didn’t simply tell their daddies what they were doing. When I didn’t, I turned to look at him.

He smiled at me from where he waiting. “I’ll call your phone when they have our table ready,” he told me.

I walked down to the lobby and stood there for a minute. I hadn’t really had any plan; I had expected him to stop me. After thinking, I walked back up to Daddy and sat next to him on the bench. I leaned against his arm, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Tired still?” he asked me.

I shook my head no. I was saved from trying to figure out how to explain to Daddy what was bothering me by our name being called. 

After we sat down, Daddy excused himself for a minute. The waitress came by and I ordered for us. As she was leaving, I touched her arm, “On second thought, instead of the second orange juice, if I could get a coke please?” I smiled at her and nodded my thanks.

Our drinks got there quickly, and I was already halfway through my (strictly forbidden because soda is not a breakfast food Eleanor) coke by the time Daddy got back.

“You got yourself a coke,” Daddy stated, his voice calm.

“Uh huh. I felt like some caffeine. I wasn’t sure if you wanted coffee or not, but I ordered a pot for you.”

“Hmm,” Daddy said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, “And what exactly is the rule about coke Eleanor?”

“I know, but it’s vacation,” I smiled at him as I gulped the rest of it down, and then calmly put the glass down on the table.

He nodded at that. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did. I forgot how much I love having coke in the morning. I think that maybe we need to think about changing that rule.”

“Do you now?”

I nodded, “Excuse me,” I slipped out from behind the table, “Could you order me another coke when she comes back?” Without waiting for a response, I walked to the bathroom. 

When I got back, my empty glass was gone. In its place was a full glass of orange juice. “I wanted a coke,” I told him, slipping back into my spot.

He smiled at me and leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m glad you enjoyed your coke since you won’t be having anymore today.”

“What?”

“I think you heard me. You know our rules about coke. You know about all of our rules, and you’ve been systematically breaking them for two days. Do you need to go back to the room to discuss your behavior?”

“What behavior?” I asked.

“You know what behavior. And this is your warning. If you’d like to go back to the room, we can do that.”

“No,” I told him.

“That’s good. Just so we’re clear,” the waitress interrupted, setting our breakfast down. Daddy thanked her, and then began cutting the french toast as he continued.

“You’re out of chances for the day; it has to be a personal best Eleanor because you’ve been awake less than 90 minutes.”

I nodded, looking at the table.

“You’re going to behave yourself then?” he asked me quietly.

“Yes sir,” I mumbled.

“Good. Eat your breakfast,” Daddy told me.

I nodded, focusing on eating quietly. I made it through half of breakfast before Daddy started talking again.

“So you want to try going back to the Magic Kingdom today?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

Daddy kept talking, trying to draw me into conversation, but my tummy felt funny. I was all mixed up. I didn’t like being spanked, but I didn’t like Daddy acting like this either.

We had rules. I broke the rules; he spanked me. I hadn’t gotten spanked really since we got to Disney World. A swat here and there, even a little mini-spanking, but nothing like what he normally did if I broke the rules. And although I knew I should be happy about that, it was making me feel weird. I didn’t like it.

Once we finished breakfast, we hopped on the monorail and started our day. We rode a couple of rides before I started up again.

“I’m hunnnnngry,” I whined.

“We just ate breakfast Baby. Are you really hungry already?”

“I want an ice cream,” I told him.

He looked at me for a minute, and then dug into his pocket, handing me cash, “Go get me one too.” he instructed calmly. He went to sit on a bench to watch me while I bought them. I stood in line, pondering the money in my hand.

It was 10:30 in the morning. This was anarchy. Although, it was anarchy with delicious ice cream. I bought the food, and then walked back over to the bench, handing one to Daddy.

“Sit down Baby,” he told me, pulling me down to sit next to him.

We ate our ice cream, and then I told Daddy I needed to go to the bathroom.

“It’s over there, I’ll be fine,” I told him. 

“Okay. I’ll wait for you here.”

I went to the bathroom, but when I came back out, I didn’t want to find Daddy. Short of hurting myself, wandering off without giving him any idea of where I was going should make him respond.

So that’s what I did. Daddy called my phone a few times as I picked through the gifts at a nearby cart, but I didn’t answer. 

I jumped when I felt his hand on my shoulder. I guess he must have heard my ring tone. He leaned in and began talking directly into my ear.

“We’re going back to our room now Eleanor. I want you to put that down and come with me please.”

“I don’t want to.”

Daddy took the stuffed animal out of my hand, placing it back on the cart. Then, keeping hold of my hand, he began leading me toward the front of the park.

“I don’t want to,” I told him again.

“We’re going back to the hotel,” he replied simply, not even bothering to look at me.

He didn’t bother to wait for a bus, calling on our way to the front of the park and requesting that a taxi be sent.

When the cab arrived, he opened the door and helped me in. Once he settled next to me, we started back to the hotel.

It was a short trip. Far too soon, we were standing in front of our hotel. Daddy kept a firm grip on my hand as he paid the driver, and then he hurried me along to our room. 

He didn’t let go of me, even once our door was shut behind us. Instead, he walked over to the bed and began calmly undressing me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panicking a bit now that I was going to get what I had been asking for.

“I’m undressing a naughty little girl who is about to spend some time in the corner,” he said matter of factly. Looking up at me, he held both of my arms and nodded toward the corner, “I wouldn’t make me ask twice if I were you Eleanor Rose.”

I jumped as he swatted my bottom, and then I rushed to the corner.

Where I waited. And waited. And waited. For forever. Somewhere between the first hundred years and the second, I began sniffling.


	21. Even More Talking

By the time Daddy called me back in front of him, I was crying in earnest. As I walked slowly to him, I covered my face with both of my hands, my shoulders heaving.

“What was this morning about Eleanor?” Daddy’s voice was quiet, but he sounded pretty angry.

“I don’t know,” I choked through my tears.

Daddy didn’t say anything, simply turning me over his lap and spanking my bottom hard. He repeated that response until I was jumping and making little noises, and then he stood me back up in front of him.

“What was this morning about Eleanor?” Daddy acted as though he hadn’t just spanked me.

I stood in front of him crying as I shifted from foot to foot in an effort to lessen some of the sting. “I don’t know,” I told him.

He grabbed my arm and began pulling me over his lap, and I threw one hand back to cover my backside, “No, no. I want to talk about it Daddy,” I cried.

“We will,” he told me, continuing to position me across his knees. Grabbing my hand, he pulled it to the middle of my back and went back to spanking me hard.

“No Daddy!” I whimpered, “I’m sorry. I want to talk with you. Please.” I kicked a little, my bottom hurting already.

Daddy ignored my pleas, focusing on spanking me until I was begging him to stop. When he let me up again, both of my hands went to cover my bottom. I couldn’t even rub it; it hurt too much.

“That hurt Daddy,” I cried, jumping up and down a little.

“What was this morning about Eleanor?”

I began crying in earnest at that, my hands going from my backside to my eyes. I wanted him to hug me and cuddle me until I felt better. Barring that, I wanted him to at least acknowledge what I was saying. I sank to the ground in front of him. Feeling the rough carpeting on my bottom did not improve my situation, but I was crying too hard to come up with a better plan. 

Curling up into a ball, I lay on the floor crying. I didn’t know what to say to Daddy, and that apparently wasn’t going to work today. So he was going to keep asking me, and then spanking when I couldn’t answer him. And my butt was going to burst into flames. It already hurt.

I was so involved with my own miserable thoughts about how the rest of eternity was going to go, with Daddy asking the same question, and then spanking me for not answering, that I didn’t notice him getting up and walking away. I did notice when he knelt on the ground next to me.

“Come here Baby,” he said, his voice back to its usual patient and gentle tones as he helped me up. “I want you to lie down on the bed for me please,” he told me.

Once I was on the bed on my side, I felt a cool damp cloth being wiped over my face. “Alright,” he crooned, “That’s enough of that. Whatever it is can’t be that bad. Stop crying, I’m here.”

After cleaning off my face, Daddy walked away again. When he returned, he nudged me over and then lay down next to me. This time, he handed me Stella and he had my bottle.

“Come here,” he whispered. “Let’s have a bottle; you look like you need to calm down.”

I started to relax once he gave me Stella, and the bottle helped too. Daddy pulled a thin blanket over us both and just cradled me, holding the bottle, until it was gone.

“Now,” he said quietly, “We need to talk Baby.”

I started tearing up again, and he saw. “No. Don’t start crying again. We have to talk about this. I need you to tell me why you were being so naughty this morning,” he gently pushed.

I looked at Daddy’s face, and then stuck my thumb in my mouth, “I’m tired Daddy,” I tried.

“You can take a nap once we’re done. Answer my question please.”

“Why are you acting so weird?” I finally whispered, still sucking my thumb.

“What?” he asked me. He looked genuinely puzzled.

“I’m being bad,” I said, not making eye contact.

“Your behavior has certainly been very bad,” he agreed.

“You don’t do nothing though.”

“I spanked you last night and gave you time out.”

I looked at him reproachfully, “That wasn’t a spanking. You spanked me worse for forgetting to put my dolls away Daddy. I’m being way badder than at home, and you just keep acting like everything’s fine.”

He nodded at that and thought for a minute. I didn’t want to snuggle against him, but I was starting to feel cold now that I wasn’t crying and acting up, and he was warm. And comforting. 

He was quiet for so long, that I felt like I needed to go on, “And Gracie and I didn’t go to sleep like you telled me to,” I whispered, “And we drank coke and ate pizza and ice cream. And you let me wear sandals today even though you know they hurt my feet. And you let me drink coke with breakfast and wander away from you while we were waiting and be whiny. And you let me have ice cream at 10:30 Daddy, and that’s still the morning. And I telled you I didn’t know why I was being bad and you just pretended like you believed me. You’re not taking good care of me at all Daddy.”

He nodded again, still holding me. “And what do you think we should do about that?”

“I think you need to work on being a better Daddy,” I told him sternly.

“And what do you think a good daddy would do about your behavior over the last few days Eleanor?”

I shrugged, and then yelped when his hand swatted my bottom.

“I don’t understand that language. I’m going to need you to talk out loud please.

My hands were back on my bottom, rubbing furiously, “You already spanked me Daddy,” I told him.

“I did,” he said agreeably, “I spanked you for not answering my questions. You know how that works though Baby, if you want extra smacks before you get punished for whatever you’re in trouble for, then that’s how it goes. You don’t get a real spanking until we talk about it. Now, what do you think we should be doing?”

“Just be a better daddy now Daddy. We can just forget this morning and pretend that you did a good job,” I reasoned, patting his arm gently, reassuringly.

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be fair at all. So I think maybe what we need to do is that I need to spank you, and then I think it’s nap time for naughty little girls. What do you think about that?”

“I don’t think so Daddy,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly what a good daddy would do,” he mused, sitting up. “Here in front of me please Eleanor.”


	22. Punishing Again

I reluctantly stood up, and positioned myself in front of him. I kept Stella tightly in my arms.

“Now, what is this spanking for?”

I looked at the ground, tracing a pattern in the carpeting with my big toe, “A lot of things,” I admitted, “But Daddy, my bottom already hurts. A lot. You don’t gotta spank me again.”

“El,” Daddy sighed, raising a hand up to cup my cheek, “You know the rules. You get spanked when you’re naughty. I’m sorry that you decided to refuse to talk to me, but if you don’t want to get spanked you know how to behave. Now, there were a lot of things. Why don’t we work backwards. Why did we come back to the room?”

“Because I wandered off.”

“Uh huh. And was that an accident or on purpose?”

“On purpose.”

Daddy kept asking me questions, forcing me to lay out every misdeed from the last 3 days for him. 

“Are you gonna spank me for the pizza too Daddy?” I whispered, my chin wobbly.

“Not for the pizza. I am going to spank you for not going to bed early like I told you and for drinking Coke and eating ice cream late at night.”

I was crying softly, using Stella to soak up my tears, “It’s gonna be a big spanking,” I whispered, “I did lots of bad stuff.”

“You were pretty naughty Princess, but we’ll handle it. We always do,” Daddy smiled at me.

“When we’re done, can I have cuddles?” I asked, my voice so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I think I’m going to need cuddles too Baby. It’s been a rough few days, huh?”

I nodded.

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded again, “Are you going to use your belt?” I whispered.

“Look at me,” he said, waiting until I made eye contact, “Have I ever used my belt on you Princess?”

“No Daddy, but I did lots of bad stuff this time.”

“I don’t care. The belt’s scares you, doesn’t it Baby?”

“I don’t like it,” I whispered.

“El, has anyone ever hit you with a belt?”

I shook my head no. “I just don’t like it.”

“Do you know why?” he asked gently.

I shook my head no, “It’s big,” I whispered, trying to explain it.

“How is it big Baby? You mean that it’s a punishment for big girls?”

I shook my head no, furrowing my forehead in an attempt to work out what I meant.

“It’s a big deal?” he gently suggested.

I nodded gratefully, “Belts are scary. They’re a big punishment. I...I was really bad though Daddy. I deserve a big spanking.” I gave up on trying to stand by myself and leaned into Daddy, resting half on his lap as my thumb went automatically to my mouth.

“We talked about it though, didn’t we Baby? I told you, we wouldn’t ever use a belt. I know it scares you. I don’t want you to be scared. I know it hurts when you get spanked, but the spankings aren’t scary.”

“I don’t like them.”

“No, that’s the point. Spankings hurt, and you don’t like them. That’s what’s supposed to keep you from doing things you aren’t supposed to. But they aren’t scary. You know how it works. I spank your bottom, and it doesn’t feel good. It might not feel good for a couple of hours even. But that’s it.”

I nodded silently. I knew he was right. “But no belt? I did lots of bad stuff,” I said.

“No. No belt ever. I absolutely promise you Eleanor, there is nothing you can do that would be bad enough for me to use a belt. It doesn’t matter how bad you act, we can always handle it with my hand or the hairbrush.”

“Or the spoon,” I whispered.

“Or the spoon. I don’t need a belt; I can make you a very sorry little girl without one.”

“We don’t got a spoon or a hairbrush here though Daddy.”

“No, we didn’t bring our spanking hairbrush with us, did we? I should have. Daddy messed up. But,” he picked up the remote control from the nightstand, “We do have this. And I think you didn’t like it the last time I had to use a remote control.”

My left hand involuntarily flew to cover my backside. Even as I whimpered anxiously, I stood up to lower myself over his lap. I had been really bad; I deserved a big punishment. 

“That’s my good girl. You’re being so brave,” Daddy murmured, gently stroking my back. “We’re going to do this, and then you and I are going to cuddle for a little bit. I think we need to come up with a better plan for this vacation; it’s supposed to be fun, and we don’t have fun when you get overwhelmed.”

I nodded, trying to hold still as I waited for the spanking to start. Daddy was quick about it. The remote control made much more of an impression when used start to finish for a spanking.

He didn’t bother to lecture; all I had to focus on was the sting. By the fifth swat, I was making involuntary movements. I stuffed my hand against my mouth in an effort to not make a noise, and I wrapped my other arm around Daddy’s leg and held on tightly.

Daddy had only made it to about 25 swats before I began kicking. I didn’t mean to; I think Daddy could tell. Normally, if I started really kicking, he started smacking my legs. Today, he wordlessly caught my legs between his own, and continued.

I began begging shortly thereafter, “Please,” I gasped. “Please, I’m sorry.” I hung my head, sobbing. 

“It’s not about being sorry Eleanor,” he said, continuing to spank me, “I’m glad that you’re sorry, but you need to work on not doing it again Baby. You’ve been rude and disrespectful since we got to Florida. I know that you’ve been excited, but that kind of behavior is not acceptable from my little girl.”

“Uh huh,” I sobbed.

“Almost done,” he tipped me forward, exposing my sit spot. At the first smack, I reared up. I had stuffed my hand half in my mouth when I felt him angling me further forward, and I was grateful for that. I wailed, and even through my hand, it was not a quiet noise.

After the first jump, I collapsed bonelessly, sobbing brokenly. I’d been bad. I’d been really really bad, and I was paying for it now.

When Daddy finally stopped, his hand began rubbing gentle circles on my back. I couldn’t stop crying, and after a moment, he helped me stand up. Normally, he gave me a little while to collect myself, but not today.

“Why don’t we lay down together,” he suggested.

I nodded, and he helped me slowly move onto the bed, careful to not put pressure on my bottom or legs. When I was finally situated, he lay down next to me and gently rubbed my back.

I cried for a while; my bottom was on fire, and I had felt badly before the spanking started. When I finally started to slow down, Daddy began talking.

“We have had a rough few days here Baby.” he told me.

I nodded tearfully at that.

“I think that maybe we both forgot that I’m in charge, you think?”

I nodded again, “Sorry Daddy.”

“I’m sorry too. It’s your job to follow the rules, but it’s my responsibility to make sure you know what the rules are. I should have done a better job. It must have been confusing to have me not acting like I usually would.

“Uh huh,” I whispered.

“Do you understand what the rules are at home?”

I nodded at that. We didn’t have a ton of them.

“Why don’t you tell me so I know.”

I didn’t want to, but I began, “Do what Daddy tells me; don’t say no to Daddy; don’t be whiny; tell the truth; and I’m not allowed to hurt myself. And I don’t gotta be happy, but I can’t have like a bad attitude. There are little rules too Daddy, but those are the big ones. And the little rules are really just do what Daddy says and I can’t hurt me.”

“That’s my smart girl,” Daddy kissed my forehead, “So, those are our rules. Always. And I’m sorry for not following them Baby.”

“Are all the rules still here Daddy? What about sugar?”

“What’s the rule about sugar?”

“I can have 1 can of Coke every day and one other sweet thing. Everything else is special, and I’m s’posed to get permission. ”

“That’s right. And since we’re here together, you just need to check and make sure that it’s okay. That’s all.”

I nodded at that.

“And I think you need to stay where I can see you for a while.”

I frowned at that.

“What happens when you don’t answer your phone Baby?”

“I gotta stay with you because you can’t trust me to make good choices.”

“That’s right. Are you still sleepy?”

“You stay with me?” I asked him.

“Of course. I figure we can cuddle together while we nap.”

“Because you’re not mad anymore?” Even as I was saying it, I yawned. Being bad is a lot of work.

“I wasn’t mad before Baby. I didn’t like your behavior. And now we’ve dealt with it.”

I nodded, and curled myself against him tightly as he kissed my forehead again. “Stella wants a kiss too,” I ordered sleepily, grabbing her and holding her up.

“Have a good nap Stella,” he told her, dutifully kissing her forehead. 

“Stella doesn’t sleep. She stays awake to watch us.”

“That’s good. Hold on a second Baby,” Daddy disentangled himself from me, rising and walking out of my line of sight.

“Daddy,” I whimpered, “Cold.”

“I know.” He came back and helped me sit up. “I’m sorry,” he murmured when I hissed as my bottom came in contact with the bed. “You need jammies though,” he slipped my nightshirt over my head and then pulled down the covers. “In you get Princess.”

I obediently crawled under the covers, holding Stella and waiting for Daddy. When he climbed in after to me, I felt his body curl around mine, and he hugged me as I fell asleep.

I felt a lot better when I woke up. Daddy was still sleeping, and I watched him for a few minutes before I got bored. 

“Daddy,” I whispered, shaking his arm, “Daddy. Wake up.”

“Five more minutes,” he whined, smiling at me although his eyes were closed.

“No. You gotta get up now. Don’t you want to go have fun with me Daddy?”

Daddy didn’t really move at that, and I poked him, squirming a little, “ I gotta go to the bathroom Daddy.”

He nodded, opening his eyes and standing up, “Come on then,” he held out his hand.

I stood up reluctantly, grabbing his hand, and he led me into the bathroom. I stared at him, biting my lip. “Please Daddy,” I whispered pathetically.

I hate when he’s with me all the time. It’s mostly good, but I have to have privacy sometimes. And this was one of those times.

He nodded, stepping outside the bathroom, “Go ahead Baby.”

He waited patiently, turning back around when he heard me washing my hands.

“You good now Baby?”

I nodded, gripping his hand and allowing myself to be lead back to the bed. 

“Should we watch some television Princess?”

I settled myself against him, “Okay,” I said, hugging Stella to myself and slipping my thumb in my mouth. 

“Look,” he said, “Charlie and Lola.”


	23. Surprising

We watched for a few minutes, and then I asked the question I’d been pondering, “Is this ‘cause I was naughty too?”

“What Baby?” he muted the television.

“Stayin’ here and watching TV?”

“No Princess,” Daddy shut the television off. “I just figured we needed some quiet time together. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, I figured you should rest before our surprise tonight.”

I sat up, looking at him, “What surprise?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?”

“Tell me tell me tell me,” I ordered, bouncing on my knees.

“No no no,” Daddy teased, smiling. 

“Pleeeeeeeease,” I begged.

“Nooooooooooo.” 

“Dadddddy,” I whined, “It’s not nice to tease.”

“It’s not?” he asked.

“No.”

He smiled at me, flipping me onto my back and tickling me.

I shrieked, “Stop. Stop! No tickles.” I curled up into a ball to protect my tummy, giggling hysterically.

Once I stopped laughing, I started up again, “Can I have a hint?”

“No you may not. I think you should maybe take a bath though Princess. And how long do those curls of yours take?”

“Not long. My hair just has to dry. Is the place we’re going fancy Daddy?”

“Maybe,” Daddy stood up and then picked me up, resting me on his hip. “Let’s get you into the tub so we can do your hair.”

“How long before we have to go Daddy?” I asked as he knelt next to the bath, filling it.

“I told you no hints Princess.”

“Can I take a long bath? I wanna play with my new toys.”

“I bet you can play with your toys while I curl your hair.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked him, as I stepped into the bathtub. 

He nodded, “You’re just going to have to tell me while I do it, but I can follow directions. Tilt your head back so we can wash your hair.”

I did like he asked, still trying to figure out where we were going. “Is it dinner Daddy?”

He didn’t answer, washing my hair and adding in a little scalp massage. 

“Daddy, is it dinner?”

“Is what dinner?”

“The surprise,” I said, letting him rinse the shampoo out.

He looked at me sternly, “What did I tell you?”

“It’s a surprise,” I said, sighing in frustration.

“It is. And it’s not that much longer, so you need to be patient.” He finished conditioning my hair, and then grabbed a comb and hair brush. “So I need to start like usual?”

“Uh huh. It has to be wet still, but you should towel dry it. Then brush it like normal. Can I have my toys Daddy?”

“What do I do next?”

“Start on one side, go to the other. Keep your finger in the curl before you tie the rag otherwise they’ll be too small. And side to side Daddy, not top to bottom. Please, I need them.”

He handed the toys to me, and I turned away from him, facing the wall. While I carefully stuck my princesses against the wall and drew their world, Daddy began curling my hair. 

Once he was finished, he quickly began soaping up my body. “Stay still Baby Girl,” he told me, when I tried to squirm away.

“I can’t Daddy. I have to draw a grotto and seaweed for Ariel.”

Gripping my arm, Daddy helped me spin around to face him, “I’m sorry, what do you have to do?”

I sighed heavily at that, “Hold still so you can finish giving me my bath.”

“That’s right. But without the sigh please,” he tapped my nose as he said it. “You about ready to get out?”

“I want to finish playing first Daddy.”

“Alright. You can have another 15 minutes, and then you need to get out of the tub.”

“Do we gotta go soon?”

“Nice try. Go ahead and play,” he smiled at me indulgently, settling back on his heels and watching me.

“You play too?” I said, offering him Flounder.

“That’s okay Baby. Have your fun. Would it be okay I finished scrubbing your back please?”

“I’m clean,” I protested.

“Uh huh,” he began rubbing the soap against a washcloth, and then went back to cleaning me.

I yelped and squirmed when he ran the rough cloth against my bottom. “Ow Daddy. That hurts,” I told him reproachfully.

“I’m sorry Baby. We’re almost done.” Lifting a cup, he poured water across my back and arms, and then took a towel. “Time to get out Princess.”

“Is it time to see my surprise Daddy?” I asked him as I stood up.

“El, stop it. I told you I’m not giving you any hints. it’s more fun if it’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like that,” I whined. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Daddy had been helping me out of the tub, but he swatted my bottom when I complained again. “Do you need me to warm up your bottom again young lady? You know how I feel about whining, and you’re making me think that maybe you need another reminder today to follow the rules.”

“Are you gonna be really bossy the rest of the vacation Daddy?”

Daddy stopped drying off my legs and looked at me incredulously, “I must not have made an impression before Eleanor, but I can rectify that.” He stood up and grabbed my hand, but I pulled backwards, not wanting to get another spanking.

“No no Daddy,” I said quickly, “I wasn’t being sassy. That was a real question.”

Daddy looked at me skeptically, “It was?”

“Uh huh Daddy,” I nodded my head quickly, “I really wanted an answer.”

“Do you think that’s the most respectful way you could have asked me Princess?”

“No Daddy. Sorry.” I stared at my feet.

“Okay, come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

I followed Daddy into the bedroom and lay on the bed so that he could put lotion on me. While he was finishing up, I asked again.

“But Daddy? Are you going to be telling me what to do a lot a lot the rest of the vacation?”

Daddy stopped what he was doing, tugging on my arms until I was sitting up and he could look me in the eyes, “Is that something you need to worry about?” he asked me.

“Noooooo. But I like to know stuff.”

“I know that. But all you need to worry about is doing what you’re told.”

“But I don’t want to get spanked Daddy, and if I don’t know stuff then I’ll mess up.”

“Do what I tell you and follow the rules, and you won’t get spanked. You know how that works Sweetheart.”

I bit my lip, nodding at that, and watched Daddy began going through his suitcase.

“What are you looking for?” I asked him.

“You are nosy today,” he responded, finally pulling out a dress.

“That’s new,” I said, pulling on the bra that had been discarded over a chair and taking the new panties he gave me.

“It is. I thought you would look pretty in it. Arms up Princess,” Daddy quickly slipped the cotton dress over my head. 

I stood up, and he tugged at the waist, getting it to settle right. “You look gorgeous. Now, I need to get dressed. Do you want to put on some makeup tonight?”

I nodded.

“Okay, but only a little Baby.”

I didn’t like that decree. “I like makeup Daddy.”

“I know you do, but I said not a lot tonight. Just a little.”

I wanted to argue more, but I figured I was just as likely to end up with no makeup as a smacked bottom. Instead, I tried to quickly make myself up, hoping Daddy wouldn’t notice what I wore. 

“Not the red,” he told me, once I’d slicked on lipstick. “Little girls don’t wear red lipstick.”

I picked up another tube as I scrubbed the red off, and he shook his head.

“Gloss or something sheer please.”

I made a face as I looked through the bag, and Daddy leaned over my shoulder, hugging me. “I know it’s hard Princess, but you need a reminder about how little you are.”

“I know. I just don’t like it.” I ran the gloss over my lips, and then smiled at him. “Is this okay Daddy?”

“You look beautiful. Should we try using the blow dryer on your curls a little?”

“Do we not have enough time now?”

“No, we have more time.”

“We should wait. The blow dryer messes them up.”

“Okay then. Why don’t you wipe off your lipstick, and we can watch some TV.”

“Why no lipstick Daddy?”

“Because you’ll end up sucking your thumb Princess. And I don’t want to figure out how to get lipstick off of your thumb.”

I took the offered tissue and wiped my lips clear. “Not TV Daddy?” I asked tentatively, “Can we just cuddle?”

He smiled at me and walked over to the chair. “Get Stella too,” he directed. Once I had her, I climbed into his lap, curling tightly against his chest. 

Daddy stroked my arm, and I stared out our window at the water. “Daddy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why won’t you tell me what you’re doing?”

“What do you mean Princess?”

“You’re telling me lots of stuff you don’t normally; you picked out my clothes and you won’t let me wear my lipstick. Why won’t you tell me why?”

He thought for a minute, “I guess because you’re overwhelmed right now. I talked to Dr. Finnegan before I proposed, and she warned me that the wedding was going to be rough. I think you’re acting out in part because you don’t know where the line is and also because it scares you that you just signed up to spend the rest of your life with me. I’m just trying to make it so you don’t have anything to worry about except doing what you’re told.”

I nodded at that, “I like to know stuff though Daddy,” I reminded him.

“I know, but right now I’ve decided that you just need to listen.”

“I understand, but I don’t like that,” Dr. Finnegan and I had been working so that I could tell Daddy that I didn’t like things. She had explained that it wasn’t because Daddy would change things, but it was important that I learn how to express myself and then accept that sometimes things stayed the same.

“I know. But, I’m the boss.”

“You’re the boss. I know. I don’t gotta like it though Daddy.”

“Is your hair dry yet?” Daddy changed the subject.

I nodded, “Lauren cut a bunch of it out when I was at the salon before we came; it’s a lot thinner now. So it dries faster.”

“Let’s take out your rags then, and we’ll see if I knew what I was doing. Can you go get your brush for me?”

I nodded, going to retrieve the brush. Then, I sat on the floor between Daddy’s knees, waiting while he untied the rags.

“Daddy?”

Daddy was preoccupied with doing my hair, but he finally made a noise encouraging me to continue.

“Can I ask a question about my surprise?”

“No.”

“Oh,” I looked down at my hands. “Is it almost time to go do something then Daddy? ‘Cause just sitting around waiting to find out is driving me crazy.”

“Once your hair is finished and your shoes are on.”

“I want my sandals.”

“That’s nice. You’re wearing your grey mary janes.”

I scrunched up my nose at that.

“All done with your hair. Go look in the mirror.”

I hesitantly walked to the mirror, but I shouldn’t have worried, “Thank you Daddy.”

“You’re welcome Princess. You look beautiful. Now, can you grab your lipstick and your purse. Then sit down so I can put your shoes on.”

Once my shoes were on, Daddy remained kneeling in front of me, “We’re going to go now. I want to see your best manners tonight Eleanor. Do you understand? I know your bottom is still sore, but if you act bratty tonight, I will spank you again.”

I nodded, “I’ll be good Daddy.” One of my hands drifted behind me to rub my bottom. 

“Alright then, let’s go.” Daddy took my hand, and we left.

I focused on keeping my mouth shut as Daddy led me out of our room. I didn’t like surprises that I knew were coming; they stressed me out. As we walked, I began narrowing down possibilities.

It was almost definitely dinner. Once we left the lobby and got a cab, I knew it wasn’t at the hotel. It was someplace at the Magic Kingdom. I fidgeted a little, trying to figure out where we were going.

“I was thinking we could go to MGM tomorrow,” he suggested.

“Okay,” I stared out the window, thinking.

“Stop thinking about it. You’re going to find out in 5 minutes. I promise.”

I nodded, leaning back against Daddy.

“Seriously El. It’s going to be fun; stop worrying about what we’re doing and trust me.”

I tilted my head back so I could look up at him, “I’m trying.”

He tapped my nose, “Don’t try. Do.”

I rolled my eyes at that and un-tilted my head. “Can we go to the Primetime Cafe tomorrow? Because I think you need someone to boss you around.”

“Maybe,” he told me, and then we got to the park. 

“Now will you tell me where we’re going?” I begged.

Daddy smiled at me, “If you don’t stop, I’m going to blindfold you. Come on,” he tugged at my hand as we walked into the park.

I grinned when we stopped at the castle, “Are we going to eat here?” I had been to the castle before, but not in 15 years probably.

“We are,” he said, “I figured we should do at least one character meal while we’re here.”

I leaned into him, feeling cuddly and happy now that I knew what we were doing. A waitress led us to the table, and we were handed menus.

Daddy took mine away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in confusion.

“Ordering your dinner.”

“I can-” I started, before he interrupted me.

“I’m doing it,” he looked over the top of the menu, the warning pretty clear in his eyes, “Tonight it’s my decision. Be a good girl and maybe you can decide what you want for breakfast tomorrow.”

I wanted to cross my arms and pout, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of vacation with all of my food being ordered for me. I focused on looking around the room. It was pretty.

When the waitress came back, Daddy ordered me something that he swore I would have ordered for myself. I looked at him once she left, “What’s the point if it’s what I’d get for me anyway?” I asked. It wasn’t like he was trying to get me to eat more vegetables or something. The only thing different was that he’d ordered water instead of pop.

“The point is that I decided I was going to, and I want you to work on having a better attitude about stuff like that,” Daddy reached across the table, grabbing one of my hands. “Sometimes, you aren’t going to understand why I do things. I think we’ve been doing this long enough that it’s not ridiculous that I ask you to trust me, especially when it comes to this little stuff.”

“Always?” I asked, not making eye contact.

“No. Just some of the time. And tonight is one of those times.”

“And tomorrow?” I asked, my voice small.

“I’ll worry about tomorrow. You worry about doing what I told you to do. Which was?” He waited, wanting me to answer.

“Follow the rules and don’t be bratty,” my face burned, and I stared at the table. I was sure that everyone in the restaurant knew that I’d been naughty, and my Daddy had to treat me like a baby.

“Baby, this isn’t to embarrass you. I wouldn’t do that,” Daddy’s voice was gently reassuring, and he squeezed my hand. “And it’s not because I’m on some power trip. I want you to be happy and healthy. I think that this will accomplish that. Do you trust me?”

I was saved from answering by the waitress dropping off appetizers. I smiled my thanks, and then focused on the cheese.

“Do you trust me?” Apparently, the waitress hadn’t interrupted Daddy’s train of thought.

I nodded, “It’s just hard,” I told him.

“I know. And you’re being such a good girl about it.”

I looked up and smiled at him. I didn’t like it, but at least I felt like I knew this Daddy. “You aren’t going to make me eat beets, are you?” I checked. Other people refuse to engage in wax play or whatever; beets are my hard limit.

“They’re good,” he teased me, smiling.

“No. No beets. They’re not good; they’re gross.”

“I’m not going to force you to eat anything that you hate. I promise. I am going to expect you to eat what I tell you to though.”

The waitress arrived with our entrees then, and Daddy was right. The vegetarian cassoulet was probably what I would have ordered. 

“Good?” he asked me.

I nodded, focused on eating. We’d been busy at lunchtime, between Daddy spanking me and the nap. And I wasn’t used to skipping meals anymore. 

I actually managed to eat everything, a feat that I never accomplished at restaurants. Once I finished, I began wiggling a little, anxious to move and walk. We’d been in the room for a good chunk of the day, and I was feeling fidgety now.

“Stop squirming,” Daddy ordered me quietly. 

I glared at him, leaning on the table.

Daddy finished chewing the last bite, and then raised an eyebrow at me, “Didn’t we just talk about your attitude? Because if you’re having trouble remembering the discussion, we could revisit it. I’m sure I can find someplace private.”

I shook my head quickly, my eyes wide, “No sir. I’m just bored.” I straightened up and smiled. “See, we’re fine now.”

“That’s good. Do you want dessert?”

I nodded, “Don’t I always?”

Daddy ordered for me again, and I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want the mousse. But I didn’t.

And, when it came, Daddy was right. It did taste good.

I looked at him after I ate the last bite, narrowing my eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that your habit of being right all the time is kind of annoying?”

“Everyone,” he answered, his face serious. “So, Space Mountain?”

I nodded, and waited, somewhat patiently, for the check. Once we were done, I tugged Daddy along with me.

We rode Space Mountain like six times. I convinced him to ride on the Carousel of Progress, and we ended up hitting up all of my favorites while we were there.

Daddy began herding me toward the exit at about 9:00.

“The park won’t close for another hour,” I complained.

“I know,” he said, acting as though he didn’t understand my complaint.

“So why do we have to go back now?”

He turned to look at me, “Because I said so,” his voice was even, but my feet quickly began moving toward the monorail. 

We managed to make it up and into a car before I finally responded, “That seems like an excellent reason,” I told him, nodding solemnly.

“I’m glad you agree. Should we swim when we get back?” 

I shook my head, “I’d rather read,” I told him.

“Would you rather read or would you rather open your present?” he asked me.

“Presents!” I had forgotten the gift I’d bought for Daddy, and I had definitely forgotten that he had gotten me a gift as well.

“Presents it is then,” he said, smiling at me. I spent the rest of the ride quiet, thinking.

When we got back to the hotel, Daddy helped me into my pajamas and then we exchanged gifts.

I had found cufflinks for Daddy on Etsy. His were awful, but the pair I found were beautiful. He smiled when he opened them, and then leaned forward, kissing me.

“Thank you Baby. These are great.” 

I smiled, happy that he liked them. Then he handed me an envelope. 

I opened it up, and a bunch of pictures fell out. He had cut them from a catalogue, and I looked at them for a moment, puzzled.

“You know how you were saying the reason the attic is cold is because it’s all bare wood and walls? I’d thought about that a few months ago; so I ordered some stuff for up there,” Daddy began flipping through the pictures. 

“See, here are the rugs, and I got chairs. Only two though because I figured that the most people who would be up there would be two. And I had someone come by and install a ceiling fan for next summer too. I thought that we could put everything together when we got home. Everything’s pink; I figured you needed a princess playroom. Plus, now we have someplace for your toys. Not that they all have to stay up there, but if you wanted Mia to come over you could play, or you could just play up there with your bigger stuff that we don’t really want out.”

I grinned as I hugged him, “Thank you Daddy. It’s perfect.” I was excited about the idea of having a playroom for all of my little stuff.

I picked up another picture, of a clawfoot bathtub. “Daddy?” I asked, showing it to him.

“You know how you got the dollhouse and the ring?”

I nodded.

“I know you told Gracie about your gift to me. If she asks what I got you, it’s a new bathtub. You complained the old one was awful. The attic is just for us and the people you want to tell. The bathtub is for anyone else who asks. They should be installing it while we’re gone.”

“You’re annoyingly perfect,” I told him, scrunching up my face. 

“I think so,” he said, and then he grabbed me, carrying me to the chair. “I want cuddles now,” he said seriously. Daddy had grabbed our book, and we read for a while.

I felt relaxed and cuddly tonight; my bottom hurt, but it was nice to know that things were back to normal. I couldn’t even whine my way into another chapter, a definite sign that Daddy was being himself.


	24. Honeymooning Again

When I woke up the next morning, Daddy was still acting normal. He was actually acting more normal than normal. I could tell that he was trying to keep things as similar to home as possible, and I finally forced him to sit down and curled up on his lap, pinning him to the chair.

“I’m okay,” I told him.

“I know that. Let’s get some breakfast so that you can take your pill.”

I held his face between my hands, “No. You’re not listening. I’m okay. It’s not a big deal if everything isn’t exactly like it is at home. I just...The rules have to be the same Daddy, but I’m not going to freak out and start being bad again just because we read two chapters or we spend an extra hour in bed. Promise.”

He smiled at me wryly, capturing my hands and then pulling my face down for a kiss.

“I’m being a little neurotic now?”

“It’s good to know that you’re not perfect,” with that, I hopped up. “Now, I’m starving Daddy. I want funnel cakes.”

“Nice try. Let’s go get some breakfast, and then we can go to MGM.”

The rest of our honeymoon progressed pretty much like that. It was delightfully wonderfully perfectly normal.

It was still special. We ate sugar and fried food in quantities that Daddy would never have let me at home. We even drank a few times. I didn’t have to go to bed strictly at 10:30, and we didn’t stick to just one chapter of my book each night.

But we had rules. I still had to go to sleep when he said and take a bath when he said. And Daddy randomly would order my food at restaurants. Not the entire vacation, but part of it.

The line was where it always was. I had to listen to Daddy, and I couldn’t do whatever I wanted. And that was the way it was going to be, forever.

“Like, until we die?” I asked him one night, needing to clarify.

“Yes. That’s what we agreed,” he brushed my hair away from my eyes. “I’m the boss. We decided that together, and now we’re married. Which means I’m the boss until we die. And probably in the afterlife.”

I nodded, sucking my lower lip in and thinking. “What if I don’t want you to be the boss? What if I want to do what I want to do?”

“Then we’ll talk about it with Dr. Finnegan. But we’re not going to make any big decisions while we’re on our honeymoon. Because my guess is Princess, that you don’t really want to do what you want to do. I think you just want to see if I’ll let you.”

It was weird, I’d always fought so much for freedom, but having Daddy tell me what to do made things so much easier. I felt so much better, like things were right.

I got swatted and sent to time out while we were there. But I wasn’t testing like I had been. Now that Daddy had explained how things were going to be, I felt calmer. 

We managed to make it through the honeymoon without any more big trouble. And every day, it got a little bit easier to let it go when Daddy decided that I was going to have scrambled eggs at breakfast or that I needed to drink more water.

And then we got home, and it was another couple of days of learning each other. It took me several spankings at home to get used to things. 

In a lot of ways, it felt the way it had when we first started doing this. Like we were trying to learn what the limits were. 

But after a few weeks, things were back to normal. If anything, they were better than normal. Now that I knew we were married, I didn’t instantly panic whenever I did something wrong. I knew that Daddy wasn’t going to leave, and I didn’t feel like any bad choice was going to be enough to drive him off. It was nice. Calm.


	25. Living

I opened the box that had been sitting on the front porch when I got home from work, and then I smiled. Nestled in tissue paper was a photograph, in a simple black frame. 

Daddy and I are sitting on a swing on the beach. It must have been right after dinner at the reception, when we had snuck off for a little time to ourselves. It wasn’t a picture taken by the photographer we’d hired; my brother must have taken it himself.

In the picture, I’m sitting on Daddy’s lap sideways, and my head is resting against his chest. My shoes are on the swing next to us, and there is a look of perfect contentment on our faces. I didn’t know how my brother had managed to take the picture without either of us noticing, but he had. There are fireworks in the background, and we both look completely relaxed. It’s a picture of us, and it feels more like home than any of the other photographs from that day.

Somehow, my brother managed to catch a moment more intimate than he had probably anticipated, and I was extremely grateful for that. Because as lovely as the wedding had been, it made me sad that I’d been forced to pretend to be the grown up that my family wanted and expected rather than the me that I so vastly preferred when I was with my husband.

I put it on the fireplace mantel and then stepped back to look at the effect. Smiling again, I hurried to toss out the box before I went upstairs to play.


End file.
